Auld Lange Syne...Whatever That Means

I thought some of you might enjoy reading my annual Christmas letter, below.  (Names & places have been removed/changed to protect the innocent!)

Fun & Frivolity

Top 10 of 2013

10.  Since changing jobs and moving, my travel has been sharply curtailed.  I went from traveling virtually every other week to just twice in 2013 – and both trips were to San Francisco.  Luckily, San Fran is one of my favorite cities (tied with Washington, DC) so it was a pretty good experience.  I’ve been there several times now but on these two trips I did a couple things I hadn’t in the past:  had dinner in Chinatown (YUM!) and perused the Ferry Building.  The Ferry Building is like a huge indoor farmer’s market with little independent shops.  I had the BEST grilled cheese of my LIFE there, too, at the Cowgirl Creamery.  And of course, when in SF, you MUST have a Ghirardelli hot fudge sundae, which I did (both times!)

9.  On my birthday this year, I started volunteering at one of the local nursing homes, doing crafts with the residents.  Thank heavens for Pinterest!  I know the folks really look forward to my monthly visits and I try to ensure that the crafts I choose are not only fun but able to be completed by various levels of dexterity.  I’ve got several ladies with very bad arthritis or tremors who can’t really craft but they so love coming that I just “help” them make theirs.  I’ve been so blessed by this time but also by rediscovering my inner crafter.  I’ve found that I like “flipping” furniture as well;  I tiled a $10 table I picked up at the Salvation Army and then caught the bug.  I rehabbed a nightstand and a small table as well and actually SOLD them to a shop in town!  I’ve got two chairs to work on next!

8.  I spent Thanksgiving with newlywed friends and had a wonderful time.  Their place is only about a 3 hour drive from me and I was blessed to have them come visit me a couple times this summer as well.

7.  Speaking of which, I am so thankful for the friends who made the journey down to visit me this year.  The winter was a pretty lonely and boring time because I didn’t really know anyone here and I was so glad when spring sprung and suddenly, people were able to visit!  I hope everyone who came had as great of a time as I did experiencing all the beauty and fun to be had here. 

6.  I’ve really spent the last year learning not only about where I work, but also about my town in general.  This area was home to several former presidents!  I’ve visited all and I’ve learned so much history.

5.  One of my visits took place earlier this month.  A friend in Indiana had put out a request on Facebook for people to take a paper gingerbread man that her kindergartener made in school and take photos of him around your town.  (If you are familiar with Flat Stanley, it is the same concept.)  I was ALL OVER that idea!  “Indy”, as I named him, journeyed with me for Thanksgiving, with a quick stopover in Colonial Williamsburg, and then visited Thomas Jefferson's Monticello with me during a holiday open house.  Mr. Jefferson himself was on hand for that event and I was able to get a photo of Indy & I with TJ!  So exciting. 

4.  In a stunning development, I signed up to train for the local 4-Miler this summer.  The 4-Miler raises money for the cancer programs at the local hospital.   A dear friend from high school was fighting breast cancer, so I decided to train and walk in the 4-Miler in honor of her (as well as my aunt and another friend who beat breast cancer.)  I was up at 6:30 AM every Saturday from June through August to train and was so thrilled when I completed the race on the first Saturday in September!  This was a huge accomplishment for the girl with chronic pain issues and a rod in her spine and who used every excuse in the book to skip gym class growing up!

3.   When I returned from visiting friends & family last Christmas, I was about at my wits end with regards to meeting people here.  In the short months I had been here, I had tried just about everything I could think of but to no avail.  I kept looking for a book club, thinking that I would find like-minded folks there, but everyone I tried was a bit of a letdown…so I started my own! We had our first meeting in February.  Of all the things I’ve done here, I have to say that THIS was the one that helped turn the tide.  The folks who come out are so nice and we have so much fun.  I really enjoy our monthly discussions!  And we meet at a different restaurant each month, so that’s been fun as well.

2.  And I’ve met some really great gals to hang out with!  We’ve watched polo (seriously!  And it was fun as heck!), done wine tastings (there are about 30 wineries within 20 minutes of me – and that is no exaggeration!), done beer tastings, had lunch and just generally had a good time.  I’m thankful for the “Sunday Fundays” we’ve been having and am looking forward to more in 2014.

1.  By far the coolest thing I’ve done since moving here was to train for and become a CASA.  I was having difficulty connecting with the kids in the youth ministry at my church here and was feeling very discouraged and disappointed.  Then I saw an ad in the weekly newspaper about CASA!  CASA is an organization that trains Court Appointed Special Advocates, who work one-on-one with abused and endangered children to assist the courts in determining the best environment to ensure each child's safety and well-being.  In some cases, the CASAs may be the only voice that can truly speak for these children.  After 30 hours of intensive training, 2 hours of court observation, 3 interviews, and being evaluated on writing a sample court report, I was sworn in as a CASA on October 15.  I know the work will be challenging, but I believe this will be one of the most rewarding things I've ever done. 

So that's my year in a nutshell!  I want to say thank you to every one of you who has prayed and offered your support during my first full year of this transition.  It certainly has not been easy (and it's still ongoing!) but I can honestly say, brighter days have come and I'm looking forward to what's ahead.

Wishing you and yours a wonderful holiday season and a fantabulous 2014!

About The Holly Days

The holidays are hard for many folks, for any number of reasons.  Mid-November through January, while billed as "the most wonderful time of the year", can instead be a time of discouragement, sadness, and struggle. Feelings of loneliness, isolation, and pain can be heightened.  It's easy to feel like the whole world is reveling in the gaiety of the holidays while you can barely muster a weak "Happy holidays" to the grocery store cashier.  The thought of buying gifts, sending cards, decorating the house seems like too much to bear...let alone dealing with family you see but once a year.  Believe me, I get it.

Just before Thanksgiving, one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, shared the story of her first holiday with her family after getting sober.  She said she had started worrying about Thanksgiving all the way back in August because she felt like the holidays made her family go crazy and she couldn't help but get the crazy all over her.  A friend pulled her aside and reminded her that Thanksgiving was just a Thursday;  if she could look at it that way, she just needed to show up and not drink.  One day.  One foot in front of the other; a breathe in, a breathe out.  And he sprinkled her with purple glitter and called it fairy dust (which I just love!)

Her point was that he was there for her, God in the flesh, and that we need to be there for one another at this time of year more than any other.  I agree wholeheartedly, as my previous post suggests.  But here's my other takeaway:

We want so much for it to be perfect in every way. We put so much weight, so much pressure, on certain holidays...but therein is the key:  holidays.

Christmas is just a Wednesday.

It might be tough.  It might be a struggle.  It might be the worst damn day you've had all year.

But it's a day.  Thanksgiving is just a Thursday.  New Year's is just a Wednesday.  (Ok, Hannukah is more than one day but you get where I'm going here....)

All you can do is take each, one day at a time.  One foot in front of the other;  breathe in and breathe out.  Even if that's all you can do, it's enough.

About "Bah Humbugs" and "Grinches"

The holiday season is upon us.  And with it, fun and excitement and joy and peace and compassionate and goodwill toward men and....

Yeah, judging by my Facebook feed and conversations I've had with various people - not so much.

I'm sure many people greatly look forward to the holiday season.  (I know some, so I can attest.)  They love finding the perfect gifts, writing out the cards, trimming the tree, decking the halls, visiting family and friends,  the whole nine yards, fa la la la la.  

But for a whole lotta folks, the holidays are hard:

Money's tight.  And getting tighter.  Bills may have to wait so the kids can have at least one gift to open.  Or maybe they've had to explain why Santa isn't coming this year.  

Family's a mess.  There are too many issues to be dealt with in such a short time period so how do they cope and "get through it"?

Or the opposite:  they deeply want to be with family and friends but they can't for any number of reasons.

Time is at a premium already and now they have to do what?  And what?  And that TOO?  It seems like there are just not enough hours in the day.  And they are tired before they even begin.

For some, time is not the issue.  They feel like they have all the time in the world, but no one to share it with. 

Some have lost a loved one and the pain just won't recede.  The hurt seems more acute when they're around others, so it's easier just to be by themselves and avoid the holiday "thing" all together.

Others struggle with depression, seasonal affective disorder, chronic pain or other illnesses.  Try as they might, they can't simply turn that off or "fix it" for the holiday season.  The heightened "cheer" of others may actually make them feel worse because they just can't get there.

The list of reasons why the holidays are a struggle for so many can go on and on.  Yet time & time again, I hear people dismiss those for whom the holidays are just a plain out and out struggle.  They are called "bah humbugs", "grinches", and various other things - sometimes in jest (or slightly veiled jest) but often not.   Part of that, I would venture to say, is that folks aren't willing to get deep with those who are struggling;  if they do, they might admit that things aren't as perfect for them as they seem, either.  It's easier to donate to an "adopted" family or child, to drop a toy off in the Toys for Tots box, or serve one day at the soup kitchen than to take the time to bear the burden of someone in your circle of friends and family.  And please don't get me wrong - those are all very good things, in which I too participate year after year.  But the question I put forth to you is this:  Who in your circle could use a little extra time, friendship, love, care, this holiday season?  I'll bet it's not hard to think of one...and I'd venture to say more than one comes to mind.  I promise you that giving that little extra to someone you love who is struggling this season will make your own just that much sweeter.

About Negativity

I missed an important meeting this morning.  It was something for which I've been waiting weeks because of bureaucratic red tape. I'm even the one who scheduled it but I put it into my calendar wrong and didn't realize I had forgotten about it until I dawdled my way into work late today.

I was already overtired and lamenting that I hadn't decided to take today and tomorrow off in anticipation of the Thanksgiving holiday, but this threw me for a loop.  I made profuse apologies all around and was eventually able to reschedule my portion of the meeting for later today.  But all the while, my negative inner dialogue was in overdrive.  I won't write all the things that went through my mind here because I refuse to give them any more power.

Those who know truly know me know that I am not an optimist by nature...or by nurture.  I have to work very hard to find the silver linings in things and to encourage others to do the same.  And when I say that, I mean that it is truly WORK.  My immediate go-to is negativity and I have learned to be exceptionally intentional in my efforts to minimize that and turn it around.  This is not to say, by any means, that I'm never negative.  I mean, come on.  (And I call "pants on fire" to anyone who claims to never fall prey to the negative or who never admits it out loud.  But that issue is for another post! I am also fond of snark (also a post for another time) but I don't think that falls into quite the same category.)  Over the years, I've learned to more quickly identify the spiral when it starts and I've found, often, that if I can recognize it, BREATHE, and look at the situation in light of what I can DO, it can make a world of difference in how I handle things.  I am thankful that just because it's my default, it doesn't need to define me.

I won't say my outlook did a complete180 today.  It didn't.  But I was able to get past my own "stuff"  and move on. And now I've got to run - can't be late for the rescheduled meeting!

About Boundaries

As I walked into my office building today, I heard one woman say to another, "Good for you, for setting a boundary!"  It's something I've had friends (and counselors) say to me yet it still bristled.  How is it that setting boundaries is such an unusual thing (especially for women, shock of all shocks!) that we need to be encouraged and heralded for doing so?  But as I walked toward my office, I realized that although it's something I've been working on, I still need that, "You go, girl!"  to encourage me that boundaries aren't a bad thing; that saying no isn't a bad thing; that taking time to take care of me isn't a bad thing.

When a baby begins to grow into a toddler, you "baby-proof" the house so she can't stick her fingers in an electrical outlet or eat the cleaning supplies are or hang herself with the mini-blind cord.  You place gates places you don't want her traveling like up and down the steps.  You might even gate her into a certain area of your home that you have deemed safe.  Why?  So she doesn't hurt herself.

It's the same with boundaries.

Yet it's an almost constant struggle for me.  It's always easier for me to be the woman in the hallway cheering on her friend for setting a boundary in her life and sticking to it.   I usually follow-through.  I'm KNOWN for follow-through.  If I tell you I am going to help you with something or do something for you, I will.  Even at my own peril;  even if my world has fallen apart in the interim between the promise & the actual "doing".  And in my work, follow-through is everything.

But in the past year (and probably before that, if I'm honest), this is something I've been working on.  I often give of myself to my own detriment.  Or I agree to something and then, almost immediately, regret not asking more questions before agreeing or even agreeing at all.  A huge part of it is that I have latent people-pleasing tendencies and so my default is to go out of my way for you, him, her, them; anyone and everyone.  In a whole lot of ways, this is not a bad thing.  But it's a fine line...and something with which many of us seem to struggle.  Most often, I think the struggle is with the reactions or perceived reactions of those to the boundary than to the boundary itself.  It's easy to say. "I'm going to do this but not that" when you are living your life in a void.  Funny thing about that, though - unless you are on a deserted island, your boundaries always involve others.  Friends, Family.  Coworkers.  People at church.  People at school.  People in the grocery store, the library, the car wash.  And if I have learned one thing about people, it is that we are all focused on self.  Even the most self-less and giving among us is wired to consider how others' actions impact US instead of the reverse.  And our life experiences, how we grew up, the environments in which we live, work, and so on, all have an impact on how we react to that.  If you tell me on a day when things are going fairly well, when I've had a restful night's sleep, when I have just had a great lunch, talking with some pleasant folks, that you need to cancel on something you promised to do for me later that day for a valid reason, I will likely be disappointed.  But I'll deal with it and move on.  Same situation on a day when I haven't slept, skipped lunch, and ran into snags with everything I attempted? Suddenly, you aren't my "real" friend.  You're not there when I "need" you.  How dare you?  I'll swear that I'll never ask for your help again. (I will. Ask again, I mean.)

Seriously?   We need to respect the need for boundaries - and we need to give ourselves, and others, a break.  When I say no to you outright or change my mind down the line, it's not me being a jerk.  (Ok, well, sometimes it probably is.)  It's me saying I know what I can handle - mentally, emotionally, physically, financially, or otherwise - and that perhaps I've reached my limit.  Or that I can see my limit on the horizon and know myself well enough to know that I shouldn't wait until I get TO my limit before putting on the brakes.


P.S.  This whole post came about because I didn't do NaNoWriMo.  I didn't write a word. Ok, that's a lie.  I wrote 10 words and then realized that I didn't have the time or the motivation to do it at this point.  And I felt guilty about that.  But you know what?  Boundaries are cool.  Make some.

Nanowrimo - Say What Now?

Sometimes it's easier to jump into the pool without testing the temperature.  If you stick your toe in and find it cold, your brain starts obsessing:  "It's cold.  It's cold.  Oh, it's so cold.  Why is it so cold?  Oh, I don't want to go in there!  Not there!  It's cold.  It's cold.  Oh, it's so cold...."

And so I signed up for Nanowrimo.  Say what now?  Nanowrimo.  Na-no-wri-mo...oh, just click the link already!

For those of you who do not follow instructions well, Nanowrimo is National Novel Writing Month.  I've signed up in the past but did not follow through and, truthfully, I can't promise that this time will be any different.  But I do have a few friends who also signed up to participate and, in going with the theme of my life lately, I mean, what the heck?  I have long fancied myself a writer and I do occasionally dabble.  ("Occasionally" being the key word for those of you who actually follow the blog.  Very key.)

The jumping in the pool without testing the water part is that I have no rightly idea what I am going to write about.  My writing is always much more memoir-esque;  the creative end always seems to allude me.  I have a hard time inventing people and lives and all of that when my own world is just so darned entertaining/irritating/confusing/etc, etc, etc.

We shall see!

One Year

I've been here one year.

In some ways, that year has flown by.  In other ways, it has felt like trying to fill a bucket with a hole in it.

I think I've cried more tears this year than any other in my life.

I've grieved for all that I gave up. (I can't say "lost" because I CHOSE this, but that seems like the more appropriate term.)  Denial/isolation, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance - over and over and back again.

I've vacillated wildly at times between sticking it out and giving up.  So much so that, at times, I've questioned my own sanity.  How can you, in the same day, sometimes in the same hour, have such diametrically opposed thoughts?

Intellectually, I knew the transition would be hard.  I was leaving my friends, my family and basically, everything I ever knew.  How could it not be?  But I thought I had the wherewithal to overcome those things much more quickly than in reality.

I figured I'd settle in, find a church, meet some people and bada bing, life as I knew it would return.

Not so much.

But in the process, I've tried a lot of things.

I started a book club.

I took a line dancing class.

I trained for and completed the local Women's 4 Miler.

I volunteer at local nursing home each month, doing crafts with the residents.

I just completed training to become a CASA.

I flipped (and sold) some cool furniture.

I revived ye olde blog (sort of.)

I "tasted" a lot of wine.  And some local brews.

I found out that polo is actually kind of fun to watch.

I met some very cool people who are well on their way to becoming good friends.

I maintained the bonds with many of my good friends back "home" despite the distance.  And I am thankful for each one who has responded again and again me in my many ups and downs - with a text back, a card in the mail, a call, a Facebook post or even a visit.

I've learned a lot about myself.  

I have my down times. And I need to let myself have them but I always try to refocus and find the silver lining.

I am enough.  And I am defined by no one but me.

I am resilient.

I believe that everything happens for a reason.  Every.Thing. Every person you encounter, every experience, good, bad, indifferent, happened BECAUSE.

I value honesty, loyalty and authenticity above almost anything else.

I found that, when asked if I like it here, it's simply enough to say, "This place is really beautiful."  Because no matter what else, that is always true.

This year has been full of the highest of highs and the lowest of lows.  Would I make the same choices again, given the opportunity?  Despite it all, I think I would, for all the reasons and more...

The Fine Line Between Fantastic and Bizarre

As anyone who knows me can tell you, I love me some Facebook, and therefore, by default, I love Mark Zuckerberg.  This social media network has done some really fantastic things for me but that's a story for another time.

I was perusing the national news earlier today when I came across a story of interest to me.  Because it used "Mark Zuckerberg" and "bizarre" in the title, I was intrigued and clicked in.  The story talks about his efforts to learn or do something different each year, which I appreciate - it kind of goes along the lines of my word of the year project, giving focus to an area (or areas) of your life that could use a change.  But as I read about his goal this year, I was suddenly put out by the headline, "Mark Zuckerberg's Bizarre New Self-Improvement Goal".  His goal, it states, is to meet one new person every day.

That's bizarre?

That's been my LIFE for the past 11 months.  Everything I've chosen to do or try has been in an effort to meet new people and to recreate the support system I had back home.  While I realize that to introvert, the thought of meeting one new person a day may seem not only bizarre but also daunting; to an ESFJ on the Myers-Briggs scale, it's a fantastically wonderful plan.  I'm also what Malcolm Gladwell calls a "connector" in his book, The Tipping Point:  I love to find commonalities between people I know.  It's always wildly helpful when someone has a question or a need, to be able to say, "Oh, I know Paul.  He does that for a living!" or "Sue had the problem.  Let me see if I can find out what she did about it."  You're limited in your scope if you don't know or connect with anyone outside of your immediate social circle.  I'm sure Mark Zuckerberg doesn't have that issue;  I mean he did start Facebook, for crying out loud.  But wouldn't it be interesting to find yourself next to him while waiting for a plane?  Or standing in line to pickup takeout from your favorite restaurant?

Never Forget

Today is a somber day, in so many ways.  I believe it's important to remember those lost but also those who ran in to the horrific situation in New York, Pennsylvania and at the Pentagon while others ran out.  They are the heroes of this day, that day and always.  

I wrote the blog post below on September 11, 2006.  Two of the people whom I worked with and who are part of this account have since left us and thinking of that makes me sad, too:

I started the day at the gym, unbelievably. A local cancer center my company was at that time affiliated with had opened one onsite and my company was allowed to use it. I’d gone a few time but was planning to start making it a morning routine. I rushed through my morning workout, showered and hopped back in the car and dashed over to work, worrying about being late.

I got to the office and started to settle in, booting up the computer and getting ready for my day to start. I had signed up to receive CNN breaking news reports via email and it wasn’t long after getting in that I got the first – that a plane had struck the World Trade Center. Like so many, I assumed it was a small plane and clicked in to CNN. The page wouldn’t display. I tried FoxNews…same thing. I got up and went into our IT Director’s office and said that something was wrong with our internet connection – I couldn’t connect to CNN. He said he’d check it and I went back to my office.

I can’t remember exactly the next thing that happened. I remember him coming in and saying that the internet was fine. He mentioned that a plane had hit the World Trade Center and I think we talked about that for another moment, how odd that that could happen.

Then another breaking news email came through, staying that it was not a small plane but instead a commercial airliner that had hit the tower. Thinking back now, I still feel like the world stopped there for just a moment.

And then the next plane hit.

I was absolutely terrified. I couldn’t even begin to grasp the magnitude of what was happening, just an hour and a half away from us. I picked up the phone and dialed my mom but got a recording that the call could not go through because of the lines being busy. I know I tried several times and finally must have gotten through but the exact sequence escapes me. I know I called friends to make sure they were safe and to just have someone to share the absolute stun I was feeling. I think I called Nancy specifically to make sure that her husband wasn’t in New York City for work that day. He was safe and I was relieved. I know I talked to Lisa & Mike as well and we sat on the phone in silence for a while in complete and utter disbelief. I know someone called me too (and maybe it was Lisa, I cannot recall) to make sure I was not in New York for work that day. I thank God today that I was not.

Coworkers came in and out of my office and we all didn’t know what to do. By this time some of us were listening to the local news radio station. I made a point to go and talk to my friend Lisa, who was a Christian. I was still very new in the faith at that time but I knew I needed to pray and keep praying. Lisa was my touchstone that day, for that very reason. I knew that she understood and that she was praying too.

When we heard that a third plane had hit the Pentagon, I think many of us began to panic. Our CEO, COO and Office Manager, as well as other staff, had been in DC the day before for a Board meeting and were scheduled to be on Amtrak on their way out precisely at that time. Were they ok? What would happen next? Would the trains be targeted? We didn’t know but thankfully were able to get in touch with one of them. She said they were fine, worried, but fine, and that the train had temporarily stopped. I don’t remember how long it stopped but we heard they were on their way home and we were thankful.

At the time, we shared a building with people from the local cancer center. My friend Jean knew them and they told us we could come over and watch their tv. We walked in to a small room where many people were gathered, murmuring to one an other in disbelief. It was then, almost immediately, that the first tower fell before our eyes. It was absolutely unbelieveable and literally gut-wrenching. I truly did not grasp what was happening as they began to replay it over and over. Tears welled in my eyes as I prayed for the souls who were lost.

I didn’t want to see anymore and remember sitting again, alone in my office. Our CEO arrived then. It turned out he had taken an earlier train out of DC and had stopped home when it all happened. He had a friend who worked in the World Trade Center or nearby, I cannot recall correctly, and had tried to reach him to no avail. He was visibily shaken and upset – and I had never seen him this way before or ever again. He came to each of our offices and told us he wanted us to go home, and be with our families.

I made a few more calls – I think to Lisa and my mom – and got in my car. But I was afraid. We live about 45 minutes from a major metropolitan area on the East Coast and they were shutting everything down. There seemed to be a real possibility that we were a target as well.

The roads were eerily empty as I drove home and that too made me afraid. I remember coming home and immediately turning on CNN and calling my mom and Lisa again. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know if I should go somewhere else. I couldn’t stop crying and I was afraid of being alone. Lisa told me I could come to their house but honestly, I was also afraid to get back in the car on the empty highway. I talked to my mom again and we agreed that it wasn’t sensible either for me to drive up to their house. We simply did not know what was going on.

We were at war.

And we did not know with whom.

Or what the next target would be.

The next days passed in a blur. I know I went to work and we all went through the motions of what we had to do, still knowing that the magnitude of this attack would weigh heavy on us for days, months, maybe even years to come.

I remember driving up to Mike & Lisa’s to help them get some things done at the new house they were moving into. I drove past the local naval air station and started to cry when I saw the cement barricades all around and the servicemen with their machine guns at the front gate. We’re used to military aircraft here but the increase in flights of all types was apparent. I watched them do maneuvers as I drove up the highway, and wondered how soon our men & women would be going to war.

My friend Jessica was to be married in Milwaukee on September 22nd. She and her fiancé both worked for an airline and had decided to move forward with the wedding. She and I talked about how I was going to get there – though I had tickets on their airline – and finally decided that flying was the best option. My dad assured me that I would be safe – probably safer than another other time I’d flown in my life.

I steeled myself to be brave, driving down to the airport. I held my head up as I walked through the terminal. But when I saw the National Guardsmen with their machine guns armed and ready throughout, I almost could not bear it. How could this be?

The airport was literally deserted and my flight was probably about a quarter full. I stared each person in the face as I walked by them to board and wondered which one was the air marshal. If there was one aboard, I couldn’t tell.

The flight was somber and quiet. I was always happy to land safely, but never as much as on this day.

I wasn’t sure how I would handle this day, all the remembrance coverage on television and radio…and thought perhaps I’d not listen, not watch. But that is not me and as I listened to people on my local Christian station this morning talk about where they were, all the emotions came flooding back. I think I cried the whole ride into work today.

I cried for those who were lost, for that deep empathy I felt for the people who’s stories I have heard, and most all, for the loss of that feeling of safety and security I once had in our nation.

It shall be no more.

Enough

Last night at book club, a friend commented positively about my Runkeeper status updates on Facebook.  Since I started training in earnest for our upcoming Women's 4 Miler, I have been using the app to keep track of my time/distances throughout the week.  It's also a good way for me to get some much needed encouragement when friends like the update or leave me positive comments...especially since that is apparently too hard for me to do myself:

I replied to her, "Yeah, I'm doing the 4 Miler in a couple weeks."  And then, inexplicably, I added what I ALWAYS seem to add:  the disclaimer, "But I'm walking, you know, not running."

Ahem.

I am off the couch.  I am moving my body on a regular basis.  I'm working on my word for the year.  I am hitting new goals and achieving things I never before had interest in.

Yet I minimize this to others.

My response echoed other responses to similar comments in recent months.  I immediately qualify my comments whenever I tell someone I'm doing the 4 Miler or even when they comment on the Runkeeper updates, like I am less because I'm not running.  I don't THINK I think I'm less but my need to explain, to clarify, points differently.

This seems to be the theme of the week, actually.  A few gals from church and I are working through Ann Voskamp's 1000 Gifts right now;  this week's take away for me was specific to giving ourselves a break - extending ourselves grace as easily as we might to another.  If a friend responded to me as I did to mine last night, I would have been quick to encourage her, to tell her that it is awesome that she is walking and remind her how many folks are sitting at home watching tv while she is out there training.  But yet it is exceedingly hard for me to do that for myself.

I know I'm not unique in this;  so many women in my life would never speak to a friend the way they speak to themselves.  They'd never be as discouraging or as hard on a beloved friend as they are to themselves.  So why are we to ourselves?  If we move forward and try our best every day, to be a little bit better, stronger, kinder, more joyful than the day before, shouldn't that be enough? Admitting when we fail, fall back or struggle but not letting that define us, shouldn't that be enough?

Shouldn't we, each of us individually, strong, unique, beautiful and wow, be enough?

Yes.

You Spin Me Right Round

I feel like my head is constantly spinning.  Not in a vertigo sort of way, thankfully, but in a constantly thinking, planning, plotting sort of way.  Before moving, I would come up with an idea, bat it back and forth, decide upon it and become singularly focused on making it happen - borderline obsessively, really.  Here I just keep coming up with ideas:  how to meet people, how to make friend, how to not scare away potential friends, how to make ends meet (at all), how to make ends meet better, what I might want to do with my life, what I might not want to do with my life, where I am in my life, where I want to be in my life, where I could have been in my life, who should be part of my life; the list goes on and on.

Most of the time, I think this is great.  It's part of change, really, isn't it?  Starting over?  Starting "fresh"?  Having a proverbial "clean slate" to work with?

Other times, I wish I could just quiet my mind and focus.  It feels like there is too much going on in there to make any good decisions...about anything.  Kudos to my nearest and dearest for all the seemingly random posts, texts and messages they have been subject to over the past ten months as I vacillate wildly from this to that and back again..then over there....I wish I could tell you that the end of that is near and that I'm soon going to be back to normal.

But the one thing I've learned through this journey so far is that there is no such thing as normal or, perhaps, more accurately, my old normal is no more.

The Learning Curve

I've always loved learning.  I learned how to read before starting school and was always so excited to go. The end of the school year always brought a barrage of tears and lamentations, followed within days with cries of boredom.  The first day of the next school year brought me almost palpable excitement:  how would my new teacher be?  Who would be in my class?  What would we learn?  What field trips would we go on? (I think it took me until sixth grade to realize that the only answer to THAT question was the game preserve, where I developed my lifelong fear of attack goats, and the fish hatchery.  Seriously.  Every. Single. Year.)

College was an amazing time I didn't want to end.  I even took anatomy and physiology at the community college one summer for kicks (but dropped out mid-semester because I got too wrapped up in the drama of my mentally unstable lab partner.  Yes, seriously.)  My current student loan balance shows you just how much I loved learning (though clearly not about math.  Or finances.  Or budgeting.)  If I could afford to take some classes today, I wouldn't think twice about it.  I love learning that much.

So instead, I do two very simple things:  I read and I talk to people.  And I keep learning in every interaction, in every conversation, in every situation - good or bad.

A dear friend of mine was in a very serious car accident last week and is still in the hospital.  He & his wife have a three week old daughter and a four year old son (who thankfully decided he didn't want to go to preschool that day or he might have been in the car.)  Ultimately, my friend will be all right but he has a long recovery ahead of him - or shall I say more correctly, they have a long recovery ahead of them.

I know people go through serious things all the time in this life.  It just feels like since I moved, my friends and family have faced some really, really difficult challenges.  And I'm not there to do anything.  To make a meal. To babysit.  To make them laugh. Or to just be there.

I feel so helpless.

I'm sure there is a lesson in all of this.  I know there is a lesson in everything I've been experiencing for the past 9 1/2 months.  But right about now, in this situation, I'd rather not be learning...I'd rather be doing and being there for those I love.

A Little Sweetness

After a long Monday, I came home from my aqua intervals class and started baking.

I hate baking. I am absolutely terrible at it.

I love cooking and I'm pretty darn good at it.  I love to try new recipes, tweak old ones, play around to find deliciousness.  I don't know what it is about baking.  Maybe it's because you have to be very precise and...I'm just not that kind of girl.  Plus, without fail, I burn myself.

So, why did I spend my Monday evening baking cakes?  It's all about being kind.

When I was little, my mom taught me the Golden Rule, to "do unto others" or to treat others as you would like to be treated.  She would tell me to "play nice" with the neighbors, even if I didn't like them and even if they weren't particularly nice to me.  I learned early on that I wouldn't like everyone and not everyone would like me...but that that didn't mean I didn't have to play nice - whether I was on the elementary school playground or in the boardroom.  Yet more and more, the Golden Rule seems to have fallen by the wayside in our world.  Is it really that hard to be kind?  To extend courtesy to another, to treat another with respect and decency?

I have worked with teenagers for many years now.  This is very much a problem in that group, as some of us can tell you, having lived through the worst of it.  Time and time again, I've heard the refrain, "Kids can be mean."  You know what?  So can grown ups.  There have been many times when a student was telling me of her struggles with girls in school or even youth group, of how mean someone (or a group of someones) was being to her for petty or unknown reasons.  While I can tell her in all honesty that it does get better, I can't tell her that it goes away when you grow up. It's just different...but no less hurtful in some ways.

I'm by no means a pollyanna.  I can sling snark and poisoned barbs just like the rest (some might even say  better), especially when I feel provoked, stressed or overtired. There are plenty of people I don't care for that I have to interact with in my life. But when a need arises or the situation calls for it, I do my best to act like a grown up, suck it up and behave myself.  Yet I'm constantly amazed by those who can't, won't or simply don't;  who can't for a half hour show common courtesy, respect and decency to another in celebration of a life's milestone or in another's time of grief.  Those are the moments that stay with you, not the every day ins and outs.  You remember who celebrated with you, who grieved with you, who simply showed you courtesy.

I'll often ask myself what I'd want someone else to do if the situation was reversed.  Would I want someone to hold the door for me when my arms were full?  Yes.  Would I want someone to ask if I needed anything when they were going out to pick something up at  lunchtime? Yes. Would I want someone to acknowledge my birthday?  Um, if you know me, that's a resounding YES.  Would I want someone to acknowledge a huge life event?  Yes, yes, I would.  A smile, a hello, even a nod of acknowledgement...all these things can go a long way.

And so I spent my evening backing cakes to celebrate this month's birthdays in my office.  I hope others join me in celebrating these folks today - and I hope that their day is made a little brighter for it.

Because, really, whose life can't use a little more sweetness?

Hello, Monday

I had friends in town this weekend.  

I love being able to show people the place I work and it's amazing history and architecture...

...and the beauty of the area,

...even when storms are brewing.

I dragged them to my new-found favorite Sunday afternoon activity, 

...and on a thrifting/antique shopping extravaganza.  

All in all, a very good weekend!  Here's hoping the week follows suit!

Singing in the Dining Room

Love, I find, is like singing.  ~ Nora Zeale Hurston

In the midst of my very busy Saturday, I was scheduled to do crafts with the old folks at the local nursing home.  I had a great plan on Friday night which I decided, at about 9 PM, to switch up.  (I do this every single time.  No idea why.)  I had decided to make coffee filter butterflies that they can either hang in their window or put on a clothespin to clip.

My goal in the monthly craft is two-fold:  (1) Get folks out of their room and making something that will brighten their day and (2) make it easy enough that anyone can participate in some way, regardless of their dexterity.  The second part is most often challenging but after doing this a few months, I'm getting the hang of it.  I try, whenever possible, to prep pieces of the craft so it goes quickly and smoothly.

The challenge of the butterflies was that you were supposed to use either food coloring or watercolor paints, neither of which I felt confident having the folks use.  A friend suggested instead using washable markers;  when you colored the coffee filter and then sprayed it, the colors swirled into a cool tie dye look.  That decided, my challenge was now what to do when they were waiting for them to dry so they could move on to the next part.  I tested using a hair dryer on the filter;  it got a lot of the dampness out but not all.  They really had to sit for a bit to dry.  I thought I might come up with a game or some questions to ask them in the interim but in the midst of my busy day, I never concretely came up with a plan.

Thankfully, the Activities Assistant was on hand to help this week and things were going very smoothly.  They were enjoying how the colors swirls on the filter but were starting to get a bit antsy as I was trying to dry them.  Just then, a group from a local church happened in.  I had seen them only one other time since I'd been doing crafts and they were on their way out that day.  They came into the room and started talking to the residents and then, just when they were getting bored from the drying time wait, they started leading them through a few songs.  It was amazing and perfect.

I can't even tell you how much these seemingly "little" things that happened on Saturday have impacted me.  I think it's really just summed up in one of my favorite songs, "God Speaking" by Mandisa.

About Fallow Ground

Last week was a bad week.

It had been raining for days on end and I think I was suffering from a variation of seasonal affective disorder from not seeing the sun for any length of time in so long.  I was also overtired from traveling back and forth from Pennsylvania for the holiday festivities and didn't allow myself an ounce of downtime.  I was sad to leave my friends and family to return to a place that, while it's getting easier, still isn't "home" to me.

I was straight up discouraged and feeling like I wasn't making any kind of difference in my own world, let alone anyone else's and in my overtired state, I truly was starting to believe that that was that.  Maybe my time of serving with students was over.  Maybe I was just meant to lead a quiet, unassuming (ahem) life from here on out.  Who was I to feel that it should be different?  Why did I even think I should being doing anything or making a difference?

The sun came out.  I got a little teensy bit of sleep.  I walked over two miles at training Saturday and was proud of myself.  I wasn't "there" yet but I was starting to feel a bit better and more like myself.

After my dog rescuing adventure, I made it over to church for the women's luncheon (30 minutes late and smelling of wet dog!)  The theme of the event was "Bloom Where You're Planted", which has been a favorite saying of mine for many years, and they had arranged for the leader of our health ministry to speak.  She had an object lesson using a plant and various size pots to show us how we best grown where we are planted.  It wasn't anything I didn't know already or hadn't heard but one thing she said really struck a cord in my discontented spirit:

Just because the ground is fallow, doesn't mean it's barren.

I kept replaying this over and over in my head.  Growing up in a somewhat rural area of Pennsylvania, I learned early on about how farmers rotate crops.  For instance, a farmer might alternate corn one year with wheat the next, to keep the ground alive and fertile. And sometimes, a field is tilled but not planted for a season so the ground can rest.  The ground is at greater risk for erosion during this time and it needs to be broken up, turned over, smoothed out and cultivated before you can replant but hopefully when you do, what you plant will grow and flourish.

Just because I don't feel like God is using me right now, doesn't mean my usefulness has ended.  Just because I feel discouraged and want things to be different, doesn't mean something isn't happening in my life. Maybe this is a period of rest, where my life got turned upside down so something beautiful can grow.

Just because the ground is fallow, doesn't mean it's barren.

The Best Laid Plans

As anyone who is following along at home knows, I've been less than busy in my new locale, much to my chagrin.  I enjoy being busy - going places, doing things, seeing folks...I'm very much an extrovert in that sense.  This weekend, however, was set to prove the exception.  I was literally scheduled to do something about every two hours on Saturday from 7 AM until 4 PM.  And although a lot of it was fun, I would have rather had all the fun spread out over a few weekends.

My day began at 7 AM with training for the 4 Miler.  I did my 2+ miles for the day and high-tailed it home to take a quick shower, then ran out for an appointment I had in town at 9 AM.  From there, I went downtown to meet some book club folks for coffee and then planned to head to a women's lunch at church with one of the people from book club who also attends my church.

This is where my tight schedule and best laid plans went awry.

We had parked in different lots so we said our adieus and promised to meet up with one another in the lot next to the church.  I was fairly certain I knew two ways to get from point A to point B (still being new, I don't have a whole lot of shortcuts in my repertoire yet!) and took the one I thought would be the quickest.  But in my overscheduled, slightly stress-inducing day, God had something to show me.  He has a tendency to do that when you aren't paying attention and are caught up in the busyness of life;  at least that's what happens to me!

I was about halfway to church when I noticed an old golden retriever mix, soaking wet, ambling along the road.  I didn't see any people around and noticed she was wearing a collar and tags so I pulled up alongside her.  She was wagging her tail but kept on going;  I was afraid by the way she was ambling that maybe she had been hit by a car and the fact that she wouldn't come near mine made me even more concerned.  She finally stopped a bit of ahead of me in a shady area.  I pulled over, thinking this would be a quick stop - do my good deed, get the dog back to her owners and get over to lunch in the nick of time.  But she was intent on continuing her journey so I MacGyvered a leash from my belt and examined her tags.  I called the vet listed on the rabies tag first and they assured me they'd call her family and give them my number.  In the meantime, I tried getting her in the air conditioned car, thinking that would be better for both of us and easier for me to drop her off once the owner called.

But the owner didn't call.  And she wouldn't get in the car.

I stood there in the blazing sun wondering what to do.  I was hot, I was late...I was stressed.  But like my overscheduled day, I had done this to myself.  I'm completely incapable of leaving a pet, especially one with tags, wandering the streets when I might be able to help.  I know I'd be devastated to lose one of mine and I always just think of that and stop.  In the past, however, it's usually been a quick fix:  the owners drive up, looking for the pet;  the pet has a rabies tag and I reach the owner through the vet;  the tag lists the owner's number and I reach them directly.  All is resolved, tied up with a neat bow - good deed done and I'm on to the next thing.

But that's the thing about life. It rarely gets tied up with a neat bow.  Sometimes you get dirty.  Sometimes you end up smelling like a wet dog.  And sometimes the easiest thing (or what you think is the "best" thing) just doesn't work out, no matter how hard you try.

You get a bad report from the doctor.
You don't get the job.
You get the job but it turns out to be different than what you thought it would be.
You don't get the guy.
You don't even MEET the guy.
You fail the test.
You don't get the raise.
You get an unexpected bill you can't pay.
The rent check bounces.
You can never quite make those blasted ends meet.
You have a misunderstanding that grows into something more.

I stood outside with the dog for a while.  I was now a half hour late and knew my friend was wondering what had happened to me on our ten minute ride across town but I had no way to reach her.  I tried texting a few folks from church to see if they might be able to get word to her but they weren't there.

I thought about giving up.

I could have just unhooked my belt from her collar and hoped she'd find her way home;  I had somewhere to BE after all.

But I thought again of how awful I'd feel if one of my pets went missing. And I realized that this situation that "messed up" MY plans was part of a larger plan, one with details to which I'm not often privy.  There was a reason this dog crossed my path on this busy day and I was being shown exactly why that was. There was no way I was letting this dog go;  not now.  I took a breath and looked at the tags again.  On her collar was a gold plate - with two numbers on it.  I tried the one that was not local, hoping it was a cell but got a voicemail.  I tried the other and a voice answered on the first ring.  "I have your dog, " I said.  "Oh, God bless you!" the man said.

He did.  On a hot, busy, overscheduled summer Saturday, he did.

P.S.  Lest you think I'm leaving you hanging:  The owner came and met me shortly thereafter.  The dog, Sarah, was a 13-year-old golden mix.  She'd been out in the yard with him while he cut the grass;  he startled a group of deer and she took off after them.  She wasn't hurt as I had first thought, just old and tired from her adventure.

About Moments

I learned from my Grammy how to give of my time.  She was always going here and there, doing this and that.  When I gave her eulogy, that was a big part of what I said about her, what I admired, and what I strive to emulate.  She was always mending my cousin's jeans, picking mint for tea or dandelions for salad.  She stayed at our house with the dog so my parents could stay with me at DuPont Children's Hospital when I had my spinal fusion without worry.  I know she wasn't a saint and, more importantly, that my relationship with her was different than hers with her children and my cousins, but this is what I remember most when I remember her.

I've been working out lately.  Walking in training for the upcoming 4 Miler and then this week, I began taking an aqua class at the University pool.  That, coupled with a long drive to Pennsylvania, fun times with friends and family, a very long drive back and a late night gig on Monday (long story), has made me quite exhausted.  I am not an early to bed sort but I was ready last night by about 9:30.  I got in bed and picked up my book for a bit but eventually, couldn't keep my eyes open.  Yet as soon as I turned out the lights, my brain went into overdrive.  I started thinking about my trip to Romania two summers ago now and how much it meant to me.  It was truly a watershed moment;  I quite literally would not be where I am today (both in location and in life) without that adventure.  I started to think about the summers leading our students on Group Workcamps around the east coast - more amazing, life-changing times that I cannot imagine not being a part of my experience, of who I am and who I have become.  It's hard to put into words why these mission trips have had such an impact on me.  Like my grandmother, I like to serve, I like to give, I like to help.  And that is a big part of what these trips were about but quite honestly, they are also about people and moments...just moments, but moments that you never forget, that you carry with you like a seashell or a smooth stone.

In my exhaustion, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the thought of perhaps not getting to experience that all again.  Awake, in the light of day and in a little less weary state of mind, I realize that that's probably irrational but last night, it was a heartbreaker.

I'm not entirely sure, truly, why I'm even telling you this.  Maybe it's because I promised time and again to recount our trip to Romania.  Maybe it ties back to the lack of moments I'm feeling in my current life.  Maybe it was my subconscious lamenting some really great moments I was blessed to have with my people last weekend.  I don't know...I guess we'll see.

About Moving

No, I'm not going to force you to endure yet another post about how hard moving has been.  (It is.  It continues to be.  But, anyway. Yeah.)

A few weeks ago, I ended up with a coworker's ticket to a play.  She couldn't go but her friend still wanted to, so I ended up going with her.  (Oddly enough, a friend from home had tried to connect the two of us when I first moved to town but we never managed to connect in person.)  During intermission and afterward, we talked a lot about the struggles of moving to a new place, trying to make friends, etc. (yes, I KNOW I promised - give me a minute!)  Having lived through it elsewhere, she knew what I was going through and she suggested that a great opportunity to meet people was coming up soon:  training for the local Women's 4 Miler.

If you know me, this seems like a ludicrous idea.  I don't run unless I'm being chased (and even then, I have to weigh my options seriously.)  I can't remember a time in my whole entire life when I would characterize myself as fit.  Heck, even as a kid, the most activity I got was trying to figure out how to get OUT of activity.    I fell off my bike more than I rode it.  I even ran into an old lady once...and that was the end of my "career" as a cyclist.

But since I'm still in the mode of throwing things against the wall to see what sticks, I looked it up.  It was scheduled to begin soon and would be every Saturday morning at the crack of dawn leading up to the race.   Walkers were encouraged.  And so I signed up.

I started walking a bit more around work;  several days, I walked from where I park to my office instead of riding the shuttle bus.  I encouraged others in my office to walk with me a little more.  And I got up that first morning and wondered what the heck I was doing.

But I went.

I didn't really meet anyone but it was fun.  And it felt good to be doing something active.  And I know it's important...and I know it also harkens back to my word for the year.  I still don't know how I fit here in my new town and more often than not, I don't feel as though I do.  But I can focus on trying to get myself fit and this is a great way to do it.  But there is more to this goal than just that.  The money raised goes to the local cancer center.  I've had two dear friends pass in the past few years from that crappy disease; I have an aunt and another friend who are proud to call themselves survivors.  And I have a friend who is fighting her own battle right now.  And when I don't feel like going out, when the weather is challenging as it has been (dear Lord, will it ever stop be grey and rainy here??) or when my foot hurts, my back hurts, whatever - I think of my friend.  What I'm doing is so small.  I'm not doing it for purely altruistic reasons;  there are plenty of selfish reasons I'm doing it.  But when I don't want to, I think of her and put one foot in front of the other.

9 weeks to go.

About Bucket Lists

A few years ago, while traveling with a colleague, he mentioned his bucket list to me.  I had never given much consideration to mine, beyond the usual, "Oh, I hope someday to..." whatever.  But in talking to him, I realized that it wasn't such a bad idea;  more of a goal setting, giving yourself things to work toward.  If you looked at mine, you'd see some of the usual things:  visit all 50 states, go on an international mission trip, go to Italy, see KISS in concert, etc.  I made short work of it within the first several months of writing it, crossing several states off in a busy season at work, traveling to Romania on a mission trip and many other fun adventures.

Last night, I was taking care of some things at home in the late afternoon when I took a break to thumb through my Twitter feed.  In doing so, I saw a quick tweet from one of the local news stations that Judy Blume was in town to screen the movie version of her book, Tiger Eyes.  It said she would be doing Q&A and a book signing afterwards.  And best of all, tickets were still available!

I think my heart may have skipped a beat as I looked at the clock and calculated if I could make it downtown in time.  I shot off a quick message to two friends I grew up with, asking if they thought I should go while all the while I was getting ready.  The resounding answer came back:  "OMG!" "Yes!"  "Go...and go once for me too!"

To us, Judy Blume is so much more than an author.  Her books, and especially her preteen and teenage protagonists, SPOKE to us.  In many ways, they were us.  They faced the same struggles and uncertainties and confusion that we all did.  Some of us hid it better than others but believe me, it was there for each and everyone in one form or another.  We learned about getting our periods for the first time;  we learned that "we must, we must, we must increase our bust" exercises didn't really work.  We learned about first love.  We learned about bullying.  We learned about racism.  We learned about sex...and what the oft-discussed "first time" might be like.  We learned that coping with loss was incredibly heartbreaking and hard but that we could and would emerge on the other side of that sadness.

I can't tell you how much her books meant to me growing up, especially one in particular.  "Deenie" is the story of a girl who finds out she has scoliosis and is confined to a back brace to try to correct it.  While my experience wasn't exactly the same, I dealt with some of the same fears and issues in dealing with my own diagnosis and brace. I can't even begin to go into all of that - we'd be here all day.  But suffice it so say, her book had a huge impact on me.

I was so excited and a little nervous driving over.  I was really holding out hope that tickets would still be available and they were.  I grabbed a large popcorn for dinner and settled in to relive a book I'd read for the first time over 25 years ago.

The movie is on limited release to about 20 small theaters nationwide but it's also available for download from various outlets now.  I would highly recommend it.  In many ways it is very true to the book and, although I'm usually a purist, the artist liberties didn't bother me at all.  I think it helped too that I knew that Judy Blume and her son had made the film together;  in that way, changes didn't seem a betrayal of the author, as sometimes in the case!

After the film, Judy came up and answered audience questions on a wide variety of topics.  I wanted to ask her about Deenie but I couldn't find the words in front of everyone, so I chose to wait until the signing.

Strategically, I tried to plant myself at the back of the line but others had the same idea and I ended up about 3/4 of the way back.  When my turn came, I handed her my copy of Tiger Eyes to sign while a gentleman took our photo.  (I look terrible but she looks fantastic!)  While she was signing, I told her that her books had meant so much to growing up and that I just wanted to thank her for that.  (And I'll admit, I got a little teary as I told her.  Yes, I am a sap.)  And I told her I wanted to specifically thank her for Deenie because I was Deenie, back brace and all for many years.  She and I spoke about that for a time and she asked if I remembered that the book was dedicated to a girl named Jane;  I did.  She said Jane was the inspiration for the story and that she had actually come out to a recent signing.  She is 53 now and doing great.

My time with Judy Blume had come to an end.  I thanked her again and shook her hand and went out to my car and burst into tears, my heart full.  I was thinking of that uncertain, confused girl I was back when I read and reread her books, of how much they meant to me, of how much they taught me.

And I realized that sometimes your bucket list items aren't on your bucket list.

About Recommitting

I've got a long list of blogs I read. I don't read them every day but I usually try to check in at least once a week. Some of the bloggers are authors or speakers I admire;  others are pastors, writers, mamas and dads.  Each one has a different perspective and that is something I crave.

I recently saw this quote attributed to Mark Twain:  "Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow-mindedness and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts.  Broad, wholesome, charitable views of man and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."  I immediately shared this on Facebook and had an interesting dialogue with a friend.  He asked for an explanation of what I thought this meant.  My take, as someone who has traveled extensively domestically but only once internationally, was that travel opens your mind.  It puts you in situations and with people who are wholly unlike you and those you came from.  It can be scary but enlightening and life-altering in many different ways.  While he understood this, he also pointed out to me that sometimes it's not a choice for people to travel.  And he's right, for a whole variety of reasons - financial, familial, etc.  And that got me thinking that the broadening of our experience comes not only through physical travel to different places but also through travel of the mind.  I know that sounds a bit crunchy granola but bear with me here.

I work at a large university.  This semester, I participated in one of several small group discussions over a period of about six weeks;  mine was focused on the topic of faith & spirituality in the university and our community.  It brought together a group of about 15 staff and students, all of different ages, hailing from different hometowns across the country, all with very different views on faith and spirituality.  Our facilitators very gracefully led us through some deep discussions about our feelings, perspectives and how that all impacts the broader community.  The ultimate goal is to create a conversation that respects the differences of others and helps create an environment where folks more readily care and look out for one another.  That seems simple as I type it but I think you can see where this might be a Sisyphean task in some instances, especially depending on the topic being discussed.

In thinking about my friend's comment in light of this, I realized that "travel" isn't limited to physicality.  I travel in my mind with every book I read.  I travel in every documentary or news story that captures my attention.  All these things and so many more mold and shape my viewpoints on things in tandem with other factors such as my faith, how I was raised, where I "come from" and more.  My viewpoints on things are constantly evolving and growing and I hope that never ceases.

Which brings me, finally (!) full-circle back  to my lengthy blogroll.  As I read through them and ponder them throughout the week, I have found one common thread:  I am totally bummed out by bloggers who don't blog.  Especially those whose voice and perspective, perhaps different from my own, I really cherish.

While I don't lump myself into the "cherished blogger" category by any stretch, I realized this week that I need to recommit to my little space here.  I need to recommit to the tens of you who read it.  I need to recommit to those who come looking for a perspective different than their own.  And moreover, I need to recommit for myself because I really, truly enjoy writing.

In the Land of Decoupage

I know I need to get back on track with posting. I've had a rough time of it for various reasons lately.  I'm still struggling - some days are better than others, for sure.  But at seven months into this adventure, I had been sure things would be different than they are...and that takes some reconciling in my mind and soul.  I had several down weekends where I simply didn't feel like doing anything.  But if there is anything for sure in my life, it's that I don't like to let myself wallow for too long.  Life's too short for that!

I set my mind on finishing up a table I was refinishing for my living room a couple weekends ago.  I'm really pleased with how it turned out.

I had originally just stained and polyurethaned it but I was never really happy with it.  When I found a cool tutorial on decoupaging with book pages, I knew what my plan was.  I posted a note on Facebook, asking my friends to tell me their favorite words and had a great response.  I found a dictionary at a thrift store for $2 and was on my way!  I painted the shelves red and then tore out my friends' favorite words from the dictionary, arranged and decoupaged them onto the back area of each shelve.  Voila!  I am so please with how this one came out.  And I'm more than a little hooked on decoupaging - and the idea of decoupaging with book pages.

This weekend I went on some adventures.  I visited a pizza place in the next town over that National Geographic claims is the best pizza in the world.  My response?  It was pretty good.  (Take that with a grain of salt, however, as I am NOT what you'd call a pizza connoisseur  - by any stretch.)  I tried out a local barbecue place that was absolutely fantastic.  I conquered a mammoth to do list.  And I finished up my final two furniture projects (for the moment, at least!)

This was a nightstand I bought at a thrift shop back in February.  I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do with it, so it took me a bit of time.  It has a retro, shabby chic kind of look about it. And I learned a lot about decoupaging furniture with fabric....

This was another table I picked up at the same thrift store.  There was really nothing to it - just bare plywood with some rusty metal legs.  I sanded the legs and sprayed them with a hammered copper and then decoupaged some map paper on the top.  I polyurethaned it and added some rubber "feet" to the bottom over the weekend (so the metal wouldn't damage the flooring, wherever this ends up.)

I'm happy with how they  turned out.  They are not perfect, by any means, but I'm learning a lot as I work with the different media and I know what I'll do differently with projects like these in the future.  Now the question is what do I do with them?  My place is very small and I really have no need for either.  I've been thinking of setting up an Etsy shop but the easier option may be to simply use Craigslist.  We shall see.

What's Love Got To Do With It?

All day long, I’ve been waffling back & forth about something so simple yet seemingly monumental.  (It all depends on your perspective, really.) As the Supreme Court sifts through both sides' arguments regarding marriage equality, I’ve seen this symbol popping up on people’s Facebook profiles:

It is a way of showing solidarity for those seeking equality.  But instead of simply changing mine without comment, I felt it more important to write and explain, because I know there are some in my circles who simply won’t understand and who may, in fact, decide that our difference in opinion is enough to cause a rift or even sever our relationship.  That risk is a scary one on some fronts but others: not so much.  (You can decide which camp you fall into in my book and I’ll leave it at that.)

One of the biggest struggles in this year of focusing on my “fit” has been finding a church home.  I didn’t grow up in the church and therefore many of the traditions & vestiges therein don’t resonate with me.  But I don’t struggle with what I believe because that is just what it is – MY belief.  My faith is important to me and what is equal in importance and tandem to that is my love for and service to others.  I’m not interested in being part of a church that gets a story in the local paper because of the elaborate cakes it had out on Easter;  I am interested in being a part of a community that LOVES and DOES because what I am held to is the great commandment in Mark 12:28-31:

One of the teachers of the law came and heard them debating.  Noticing that Jesus had given them a good answer, he asked him, "Of all the commandments, which is the most important?"  

"The most important one," answered Jesus, "is this:  'Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.  Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this:  'Love your neighbor as yourself.'  There is no commandment greater than these."

It’s right there, in the red letters:  "Love your neighbor as yourself."

And there are people in my life for whom this is a very important issue.  And because I love them, I want that which will make them happy, that which will make their lives easier and that which will make them a part, instead of apart.

What Not to Wear

I was sad to learn that TLC's What Not to Wear is going off the air soon.  Besides my great love of Clinton Kelly & Stacy London, I also secretly harbored hope that someday, some "friend" would nominate me.  Because, really, after you get past the horror of being told you are a crappy dresser on national tv, you get $5000 to create a whole new wardrobe with the help of two savvy, snarky, lovely folks.  How can you beat that?  I've learned (though not always applied) so much from the show over the years about patterns and colors and styles and, most of all, about fit.  For instance, about the tendency for people to try to hide their flaws but wearing their clothing too big, which ends up drawing attention to rather than away from the area.  It's all about clothing that fits, and sometimes that may mean getting a piece tailored to make it fit your figure better.

You may remember that I am all about "fit" in 2013 and it got me thinking.  When I first made my big move, I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how I was going to fit in:  what I could do, what I should do, how I would meet people and make friends.  I tried a lot of different things...and am still trying a lot of different things.  I described it to someone today as "throwing things against the wall to see what sticks."  An odd metaphor but a metaphor just the same.  And lately, I haven't been feeling like much is sticking.  I've found myself trying to gracefully bow out or take a break from some of the things I thought were going to be the perfect fit for me, the "answer", if you will..because they just don't feel right or I just don't feel like it.  To a degree, some of those feelings may come because I'm disappointed in things not turning out as I had expected;  some may be simply because I'm struggling with a touch of seasonal affective disorder brought on by The Winter That Will Never, Ever (Ever, Ever) End.  Some may be just poor timing.  But others may simply be an issue of fit.  And just like on What Not to Wear, I have to try things on.  I have to look at myself in the 360 mirror, get rid of the old, worn stuff and pick out some new, more flattering things.

On Joy

Joy is sometimes a blessing, but it is often a conquest.  Our magic moment helps us to change and sends us off in search of our dreams.  Yes, we are going to suffer,we will have difficult times, and we will experience many disappointments - but all of this is transitory it leaves no permanent mark.  And one day we will look back with pride and faith at the journey we have taken. 

 ~  Paulo Coehlo, By the River Piedra I Sat Down and Wept

It has been a hard week, full of the highest of peaks and the lowest depths of valleys.

I've said it before and I'll probably say it another 150,000 times before all is said and done:  this is hard. Some days, I feel the loss of family, friends and familiarity very acutely.  I'm still trying to identify the triggers so I can work with them instead of being broadsided by them.

It all takes time.

I've been trying various things to meet people and to make this place my home.  I'm taking classes (line dancing and yoga) and joining things (Bible study, youth group activities).  I've been making a concerted effort to put myself "out there"when it may seem just easier to retreat to my couch and my kitties.

One of the ways I've decided to do that is to start my own book club in town.  The first meetup was this Thursday and as I drove to the restaurant, I was so very anxious.  What if no one showed up and I was at a table for 8 alone?  What if people showed up but didn't like me?  Or I didn't like them?  Everything I do here feels an awful lot like the first day of school or a first date.

Thankfully, four of the eight showed up and they were the "right" four.  We had a great discussion of the book we read but more importantly, had a great conversation overall about authors and books and reading.  It felt so very good.  I was so encouraged.  I came home to find my friends on Facebook eagerly awaiting word (since my last status was that I was freaking out!)  I filled them in and was also texting with my best friend.  She had some very sage advice:  to not let anyone steal my joy the next day.  We all have people in our lives who have that effect on us;  some seem unfortunately surrounded by them.  But often, I find that I can do it all by myself.  But I went into yesterday still riding high and determined not to let my joy be stolen.

For the most part, I succeeded.  Every day has its ups and downs and it was no different.  And today started out much the same.  But then I learned a dear friend had lost her three-year battle with pancreatic cancer.  Even when you know that terrible news like that is forthcoming, it is still a blow.  I wept and wondered why her;  why another dear friend from the same company who we lost to lung cancer a few years ago.

But as I thought about these two amazing, strong, fun-loving women and all the things they had taught me, one thing stood out - the same thing my friend told me Thursday night.  They both were women who refused to let anything steal their joy.  That's not to say they never went though tough times because to say they went through tough times was an understatement, especially in their final months.  But when I think of them, I think of the parties - the baby showers, the bridal showers, the birthday parties;  I think of the nights out for drinks or dinner.  I think of all the laughs and oh my, there were SO many laughs!  Because no matter what, they had a joy deep in their souls.

And that is how I want to remember them...and what I want to emulate.

Rest in peace, my friends.  I know you are partying together tonight in heaven.