Sitting In The Front Row

My friends and I get together from time to time just to catch up on each other's lives and do something fun. This Christmas, one of the girls hosted a Christmas lunch. The food was fabulous (I just love her desserts) and the camaraderie is always amazing.  

Most of us are grandmothers and we spent time sharing pictures and stories as we began to talk about growing older in the 21st century.  We all agreed that our lives do not resemble that of our mothers or grandmothers at the same age. I attribute this to the fact that our ancestors fought a battle that would allow women to be recognized as something more than domesticated goddesses.  The women who walked before us fought for equality which resulted in creating opportunities for my generation that our mothers and grandmothers didn't have. 

Women who choose to stay home and raise a family need to be applauded.  Being a full time wife and mother is not for the faint of heart and, unless someone actually experiences what it means to be a stay at home parent,  most people will fail to understand the sacrifices that someone must make in their own lives to stay home and raise children full time.  However, any woman who lives her life as a housewife and mother should be living this life because she wants to, not because she has no other options. The freedom to choose is what the women who went before us fought so hard to achieve. Perhaps this is why I find it troubling when I hear major players in the market, like Abercrombie,  make comments that relate a woman's value to the circumference of her waistline or when I read an article that alludes to the fact that a woman needs to be in a relationship to be complete.

Why should one's life be limited because of one's gender, size, age, or marital status?  What actually  limits any person is the perception we have of ourselves.  As we were cleaning out my mother's house, I was happy to see some unfinished projects to be sold or giving away.  Aside from the multitude of trophies and awards mom had for her music, there were unfinished projects next to her sewing machine. Next to her kiln there were some unfired ceramics and on a table nearby was her lapidary saw with some rocks that needed to be polished. I admire the fact that my mother did not sit at home waiting for life to happen.  Although she never ventured far from her own community, she was constantly trying something new, living life to the fullest.  I  admire her for that.

For myself, I don't want to sit in the back row trying to be invisible. I want to be in the front row, taking the risk of being seen for just who I am, so I can experience all that life has to offer.  My gender is not going to limit me from living.  A friend of mine said that when she leaves this earth there will be an unfinished quilt and an unfinished book.  For myself, there will definitely be an unfinished book, a project underway, and  a photo album filled with pictures of my adventures.

Her Name is Harriett. I Call Her Mom

Her name is  Harriett. I call her mom.  Mom  remembers me, she remembers her name, but other memories can be elusive for her.  Each visit is a gamble because I never know how much of my mother will be waiting for me when I arrive.

I always feel a level of tension when I am driving to see my mother.  The visit  today was ideal but there is no guarantee that mom's mind will be clear.  Mom always remembers who I am but there are times when she struggles to hold onto memories of what occurred just minutes before.  Those visits  can be emotionally draining.

After work today,  I stopped by to pick up my mother's laundry and make a shopping list.  I was able to enjoy a nice conversation with my mother about dinner, breakfast, and a new friend she had made.  She remembered my job, my recent promotion, she asked about the family, she told me how happy she is in her new apartment and how much she misses her garden.  This is one of the good visits. In fact, this was a great visit.

Yet, even when mom demonstrates some level of clarity, my mother's memory is not complete.  This evening she asked why she had a special diet and stomach issues.  "Because they removed part of your colon when you had colon cancer." I told her.  She  was shocked and asked me "When did I have colon cancer?"  Her statement saddened me because my mother is a two time cancer survivor.  Mom won a battle with breast cancer when I was very young and survived an advanced stage of colon cancer about 25 years ago. She doesn't remember either one.  Mom also has a degree in music and is a skilled pianist but there are days when she doesn't remember that either. 

Sometimes it is necessary to take mom out of her familiar surroundings but these adventures are not easy. I only take her to familiar places but she becomes agitated if we are out too long, refusing to let me out of her sight. When I take her back to her residence, it takes a long time before she recognizes that she is home so I need to stay with her until things feel routine and comfortable again.

I feel blessed that she always remembers me but it is becoming all too routine for her to ask me "How many children do I have?"  When her memory is cloudy like this we name my siblings and their birth order until she nods her head and says "Yes, I remember now." 

My mother understands that she has memory problems and she is comfortable telling me when she struggles to remember something. I think that her ability to trust those who are caring for her helps to alleviate some of her anxiety.  In spite of her trust,  the unfamiliar can be very difficult for her.   I try to avoid taking her away from her familiar surroundings but this creates an additional challenges at holiday time. 

As difficult as this is, I am grateful that I have an opportunity to reconnect and put the angst of the past behind me.   I dread the day that mom will struggle to remember me but it breaks my heart as I watch the feisty woman I have known all of my life disappear into that black hole of memory loss.  I am terrified, for both of us, because I know that one day mom could sink into that black hole and never come back.

People try to understand what we are going through, and they are supportive, but this is something that has to be experienced to be understood.   I am helpless.  All I can do is be there and watch as the essence of my mother slowly fades. I hope that they find a cure for Alzheimer Disease so others will never need to make this journey but the reality is that one day my mother... this woman named Harriett.... could be lost forever as Alzheimer Disease robs her of every memory until only a blank page remains where a vibrant mind used to be.

 

 

The Dazzle Of The Season

 I remember when the holiday season officially kicked off with Thanksgiving. Now the malls now are selling Christmas ornaments and playing Christmas Carols on Labor Day which makes me wonder; when did they change the date?

 

Now that Thanksgiving is behind us, the focus is now on shopping and decorating.   I know that Christmas is not about the decorations or presents but there have previous holidays when I became so distracted with my ‘to do’ list that I failed to keep my focus on the real meaning of Christmas.  Yet, in my defense, it is easy to become distracted when we are simultaneously spoon fed images of driving to grandmother’s house through the pristine white snow while every advertisement tries to sell the idea that we need to dazzle everyone with our own personal presentation of Christmas.  This time of year people are inundated with images of the clothes we should wear and the presents we need to give. It can be so exhausting!

 

As I was creating my holiday ‘to do’ list, I was again feeling the obligation to “dazzle”  until I walked out of my office and saw a homeless man sitting on the corner nearby.  Since I work in the heart of the city, it is not unusual to see homeless people but this particular homeless man caught my attention because a few years ago, at holiday time,  something he did changed my perspective.  It was a time when I had set high expectations for myself to dazzle and wasn't taking time to actually enjoy the holiday. One afternoon I took a break to watch a festival held close to where I work. One vendor was handing out free T-shirts  and that evening, as I walked to the parking garage, I saw that same homeless man handing out some of those free T-Shirts to other homeless people so they would have an extra layer of clothing to keep themselves warm.  It was very cold that day and he only wore a T-shirt over a long sleeve shirt covered by a thin jacket. I could tell he was cold but, instead of creating extra layers for himself, he shared with others who had even less.   When I got to my car in the parking garage that evening, I looked across the horizon and saw a cross from a nearby church glowing against the night sky.  I was gently reminded that Christmas is not about the dazzle or commitments.  Christmas is about love.

 

This evening, as I arrived at the parking garage, I looked across the horizon at the beautiful sunset and saw that cross rising above the skyline.  That cross was lit, glowing against a backdrop of a red sunset, a reminder that Christmas is about the kind of brotherly love which was demonstrated by a homeless man sharing with the less fortunate when he himself had nothing.  The holiday season is about Christ, family, friends, and love for our fellow man.  I no longer feel the pressure to dazzle which frees me to focus on the true spirit of the holiday. 

 

 

To be honest, I know I will still try to dazzle, but not out of any sense of obligation to do so.  The dazzle in the holiday is now part of the fun while the focus is on the love.  I personally think that the Lord showed me these reminders now because, being the wise omnipotent entity that he is, he realized that  he should just get ahead of the game this year  and remind me to keep my focus on the true meaning of the holiday season before I become too engrossed in the dazzle and commitments.  Instead of over committing myself in an attempt to exceed the expectations of the season,  I am scheduling only the commitments that matter.   In other words, this year it is quality over quantity and the focus is on love.

 

Merry Christmas.

 

 

 

The Realist and The Romantic

Some people assume that I either need help finding Mr. Right or  they wrongfully assume that I am an anti-man crusader.  Then there are well meaning folks who believe that my primary hobby should be looking for a man to complete my life.  I realize that their motives are pure but there are times when I just want to tell people to stop. Please just stop!

One of my good friends told me she doesn't understand why I am not investing more effort into trying to meet someone.  I had a good laugh when she told me to try online dating. Her exact words were "You should try online dating!  It is like online shopping for the perfect man with endless choices. All you do is choose the physical attributes and personality types and POOF you meet exactly what you were looking for!"  Those words confirm that she  has never tried online dating.

This last year has been brutal and there simply wasn't any room in my life for dating.  However, now that things are becoming more settled I am taking advantage of opportunities to get out and mingle with other single people but dating, just for the sake of dating itself, has about as much appeal as a dentist appointment.

 One other consideration is that  I tend to fall for men based on the quality of their heart rather than the quality of their looks. An attractive man is eye candy but the attraction fades quickly for me if  his heart is not as attractive as his physical self.  The men I have fallen for in the past didn't stand out to me at first.  Usually there is a character trait, or some attribute, that catches my attention and I begin to take a closer look. A good heart and great sense of humor will catch my attention so much faster than a perfect physique or an expensive sports car.  That perfect physique might cause me to look twice but that is not what will hold my attention.  If I like the essence of the man, I will begin to notice physical attributes that appeal to me.  It is like falling for someone from the inside out. 

I am both a realist and a romantic.  The realist lives in the hear and now with no illusions but the romantic gets choked up seeing over an older couple holding hands as they walk down the street.  The books and movies I enjoy are legal thrillers and science fiction but I also love romantic comedies.  The realist has accepted that I may never find anyone to share my life with so my focus is on creating a full life  with or without a partner. However, the romantic is always aware of the positive impact that love and romance has on our lives. Reality is like the main course  and romance is the seasoning that elevates the meal from meat and potatoes to something divine.

The well meaning people in my life who are concerned because I am not scouring the surrounding territory for a mate can put their concern to rest.  I am definitely open to the possibilities of love and romance. However, because of my responsibilities, time is a precious commodity that is not to be wasted on empty dates.   While the romantic in me is still alive, the realist is the one who guides me.

Finding Balance

Life has a way of forcing us to reevaluate our perspective every so often.  My schedule is stretched thin these days and I find myself trying to multi task just to keep up.  On a weekday I leave the house early and I am lucky to arrive home before dark with no time in between for personal tasks. Weekends are the only time that I have to do errands and chores. A few Saturdays ago I sat down with my coffee and then I just couldn't get started with my to do list.  I needed to dust and vacuum but I literally could not get off of the couch so I ended up reading a book that had been sitting on my night table, finishing it in a single day. 

A few days later I talked to a friend about feeling stuck and my inability to start my day.   I told her that my lack of motivation on that day was so unsettling that I was thinking about seeing a counselor.  "You don't seem depressed or anything.  Are you depressed?" She asks me.  I told her that I wasn't depressed but I was just having a hard time juggling my 'to do' list and it frustrated me because lately I struggle just  to get started.  She pointed out that a few years ago my life had some semblance of balance so I would schedule time for myself but lately she hasn't seen me factoring time for myself into the equation.  "It almost seems like you feel guilty about taking time out for yourself anymore and you shouldn't. Maybe you just needed that time."   Another friend recently pointed out that some of the people I compare myself to have two people sharing the responsibilities while  I am doing the same amount of work with half of the manpower and even less time. After talking through this with my friends,  I realized how grateful I am for my friends. My friends are my support system but they are also my mirrors.  They force me to look at my life through different eyes.


After that conversation it occurred to me that I couldn't get off the couch to start my chores that Saturday because my spirit just needed a vacation from my 'to do' list.  For many years I was a perfectionist but perfectionism just doesn't fit in with my lifestyle right now.  I need to simply keep my focus on keeping things clean and organized while  the additional projects are broken down into smaller steps that may take a little longer. As a result, I am happy again, my life has more balance, and I have freed myself to focus on what is truly important.

Whatever The Day Brings

I don't know how to reply to some of the comments I hear from people who do not understand what it is to care for an aging parent with Alzheimer Disease.  One person told me recently that a person with Alzheimer Disease should always be happy because they have no stress. That statement is reflective of the misconception so many people have about this disease.  There is no way to explain the impact Alzheimer Disease has on it's victim or on the families.  With Alzheimer Disease, the victim dies twice.  The first death occurs as they fade into a shadow of the person that they were but it doesn't stop there.  Eventually they cannot remember how to swallow,  talk, breathe and then the body shuts down until they experience a physical death.

I go to see mom several times a week to do her laundry, shopping, and take her for hair cuts etc.  A few weeks ago I arrived and she was very upset because she could not find my father. She said that she had been looking for him everywhere but she couldn't remember where to find him. I sat her down and gently told her that dad passed away twenty five years ago and then let her cry on my shoulder as she grieved all over again.  A few days ago she was upset because my brother hadn't called. Again I had to gently explain that he passed away in 1997.  Once again I just sat by and supported her as she grieved for  a son who died sixteen years before.  Finally she looked up at  me and said, "I know my memory isn't good but I think sometimes we forget some things because they hurt the most."  I cried all the way home both times. 

Of course there are other  times when I can't help but smile.  Recently, my sister put together a small photo album for mom so she can continuously see the faces of her family.  I thought this was a wonderful idea so I brought over a box of pictures. Mom and I went through the photos and she selected a few photos that she wanted to put out in frames.  A few days later I found some nice  frames and purchased them for the photos she had chosen as her favorites.  On my next visit mom helped me put the photos in the frames and she then placed them throughout her apartment.  Once we were finished, my mother got up to get something and, as she reentered the room, she spotted one of the frames that she had just helped me with.  She got so excited and joyfully exclaimed “Where did that come from! How wonderful!”  She went to the table where the picture was sitting and talked about the day the picture was taken. She was completely oblivious to the fact that she helped me put the photo in the frame just moments before.  As she turned from the table she saw one of the other pictures sitting in a different part of the room and joyfully exclaimed “Where did that come from! How wonderful!”  She then went to the table where that picture was sitting and talked endlessly about that picture and as began to walk back toward the couch she saw the first picture and was absolutely delighted as she said “Where did that come from!  This is wonderful!”  I sat back and happily watched the pleasure in her face  as she discovered the same pictures repeatedly for the first time over and over again. I decided that the picture frames were a wise investment because this will both entertain and bring her joy for days.  I smiled all of the way home.

As I watch my mother make this journey with Alzheimer Disease it reminds me of taking a solitary walk on a cloudy day.  There are no guarantees of what the day will bring.  I could get rain, I could get rainbows, or I maybe I will simply find a small measure of joy watching my mother get excited as she gets the first glimpse of a family photo for the hundredth time that day.

 

 

 

 

Musings On My Faith

 

There is an old Indian proverb about two wolves.  It says that there are 2 wolves inside every person.  One is full of evil wanting to kill, destroy and devour anything it can.  The other is full of love wanting to look after the weak and take care of the less fortunate.  The one that grows is the one you feed.

I was recently engaged in a disturbing conversation with a woman I know who was sharing concerns about a dilemma with her college age daughter.  The daughter's childhood friend is not as involved in her church and had become too involved in worldly activities. All of the friends that they had grown up with in the church no longer wanted to associate with the friend.  The friend was judged and gossiped about until the friend became depressed, withdrew from all social activities, stopped going to church, and eventually tried to commit suicide.  Fortunately, the suicide attempt failed and the girl was sent to spend time with her aunt.  The daughter no longer spends much time with the friend but still talks to her on the phone. This woman wants her daughter to completely cut the other girl out of her life and is upset because the daughter doesn't see the logic.  I suggested that the daughter is doing the right thing by not shutting her out.  It is important to let the friend know that, although her daughter won't engage in the same behavior, she still cares. This woman began to quote bits and bobs of scripture and stated that  she only surrounds herself with true Christians because the bible says .......
 I didn't let her finish.  I excused myself and walked away because this is the type of Christian that I try to avoid.

 

I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.
Mahatma Gandhi

 

The conversation struck a nerve because I was ostracized in my youth for not living a life that met the standards of the church I was raised in.  Although I am a Christian with a strong faith, I am not someone who discusses my religious beliefs often. However, this woman's attitude has been weighing on my heart because  I have witnessed first hand the damage that the inflexible and judgmental type of faith can do.  Today I only go to church on occasion and remain skeptical about organized religion. I do not believe that salvation will be attained solely through the teachings of any earthly man, I do not believe that one finds God through tithes or through scripture memorization,  and I do not believe that salvation is limited to the space within the walls of a brick and mortar building. I do, however, believe that God is everywhere, that he is omnipotent, that he loves us,  and that everything happens for a reason. I also believe that God created people of all colors, genders, beliefs, and ethnicities so when I hear someone denounce any one  person or any one group of people I see it as blasphemy because God does not make mistakes.  I  believe that we were meant to struggle sometimes, we were meant to be challenged,  and we are intentionally tested.  God expects us to fail from time to time.  How one emerges from these challenges is between that person and God.  It is not my place to judge.  If we are were never challenged then how could we grow, become empathetic to the suffering of others,  and how could we learn what life is like outside of our own perfect little world until we experience it?

"When you think about Christianity if you think ‘condemnation’ instead of ‘salvation’ you’re not thinking biblically." Pastor Mark.

 

My pet peeve, and the reason I have not actually joined a church, is that some Christians are so busy judging other people in the name of Christianity that they forget to address their own shortcomings. There are many wonderful Christian people who I greatly admire but there are a few folks that make me wish that they would just take the fish off of their cars.

I have questioned my own faith in the past, but that only served to strengthen my faith in God.  What I appreciate about Christianity is the fact that the teachings of Jesus acknowledges the fact that mankind is imperfect. The bible tells us that no one is exempt from sin.  While the bible points out that man is imperfect, the stories in the bible demonstrate that a potential for greatness exists in everyone. We are not expected to be perfect but we need to be genuinely remorseful and ask forgiveness when we make a mistake.  Therefore, since we are all sinners  we have no business judging others. 

 

In Christianity, evil isn’t something that simply exists “out there” among thieves and murderers and meth makers. No, Christianity teaches the hard truth that the evil we observe in the world is also present within ourselves.

Racism, greed, misogyny, hatred, violence, inequity, selfishness, and pride all take shape within the human heart, so if we’re going to tackle injustice in the world, we have to start with ourselves. Christianity rejects the idea that we’re all okay.

The good news is that liberation comes not from climbing some holy ladder to try and escape sin on our own, nor from wallowing in shame and self-hatred because of it, but receiving the grace of God through Jesus and extending that grace to others.

This process begins with naming the evil within us and turning away from it—a process called repentance. 

 

Rachel Held Evans.
 

Some Christians live in a state of denial and, as a result, end up living with a fear of actually living.   I do not believe that God created us to be inflexible or to live in fear of the differences and  I believe that God wants us to succeed, he simply doesn't want us to succeed at the expense of someone else's suffering. This is marketing 101.  Whose voice will reach more people, the homeless man on the street or the CEO of a large corporation?  The bible states an expectation to share his word, to help the needy, and keep God first in our heart.  When things do not go as planned I believe that it is because we have something to learn, we have someone to meet, or we are simply not going in the direction God wants us to go.  Every life experience, and every mistake, carries a lesson. Not everyone can be the head of a corporation but, if we have faith, God will give us a fulfilling life.

 

 

Judaism is not so foolish or unworldly as to pretend that success does not also include worldly accomplishment. To build a business, invent a product, cure a patient, win a lawsuit -- all of these and more can also be reckoned success. It does no credit to life of the spirit to pretend that things of this world are trivial. We are cautioned against sacrificing soul growth to money, but also need not disdain things of this world to climb a mountaintop and live on elderberries. Turning your back on life is not a higher way to live; it is a premature way to die.

 

Rabbi David Wolpe

 

 I understand the importance of spending time with others who share the same values but that is not an excuse for turning one's back on someone who is struggling. My Christian faith teaches me to help others in need and to love my neighbor, not cut them out of my life.  The walls that people erect to segregate their group of believers from those who they perceive as flawed are not acknowledging the sin within themselves.  This seems to end up creating a breeding ground for the narrow minded attitudes that often repel people away from Christianity. I find this disappointing because I wish that everyone could see that Faith in God is about love, charity, faith, witness, and repentance.  Each religion is different but they all honor the same God. Steve Jobs said that "Different religions are all the just different entrances to the same house." 

I want the way I live my life, and my response to any life challenge, to reflect these basic Christian truths. Turning my back on a friend who is struggling is not what my faith teaches and it is not how I would respond.  The woman I mentioned can quote all of the bits and bobs of scripture that she has  ever memorized.  I simply  do not support her view.



 

Admissions

I recently read a book titled 'Admissions.'  A friend of mine loved the book and talked about it for weeks so, even though this type of read isn't what I normally reach for, a few weeks ago I was able to download the book onto my tablet for less than what I pay  for my coffee at Starbucks.   It turned out that I loved the book but the story started out so slowly that I began to have doubts about my ability to finish it. However, it was well worth reading about the incredibly boring life of the main character because those first few chapters actually set the stage for an very engaging story. The book is about a woman who was hurt once so she lived her life cautiously without taking risks and at middle age realized how much she had been missing. Although the book was very well written, as the author wove a story about the main character's daily life I struggled to understand why anyone would choose to live such Vanilla life when there are so many other flavors of living to explore.  Then it occurred to me that over the last year I have compartmentalized my own life into a series of  duties and my life was sounding very similar to the character of this story.


There have been a few other times in my life that I avoided going outside of my comfort zone for one reason or another, but I  eventually realized that my life had become a little too routine so I then made it a point to explore the adventures that waited just beyond those boundaries.   This is one of those times.




The book was a reminder to me but my inspiration actually came from a surprising source.  Over the last year I have spent a lot of time with my mother and  the people in mom's assisted living. What I noticed is that the people that are thriving are the adventurous ones  while those who are afraid to  reach beyond their comfort zone seem to  be withering away.  I found  inspiration for my own life by watching those who are in the final stage of theirs.  Grey hair, no hair, canes and wheelchairs they are still vibrant,  adventurous, not deterred by their setbacks.  My mother is a very social woman so she too is thriving now. This community has not only revived mom's spirit, it has also inspired me. With each visit I see something that makes me smile whether it be a group of elderly men dressed in fishing clothes with lures hanging from their hats, fishing poles balanced in one hand and a cane in the other while those confined to wheelchairs carry the tackle boxes as they slowly make their way to a shuttle which will take them to the lake for their weekly fishing trip.  There are a few ladies who like to race the elevators to see which one gets to the top floor first and I wasn't surprised to find that they were taking bets on the winner.  A few weeks ago I couldn't find my mother. The caregivers told me that she and her friends were on the patio having wine. When I found them I joined in for a chat and asked mom "What is in your glass?"   She looked guilty and said "Kool Aid?"  I just laughed and told her "Your doctor said an occasional glass of wine is OK. Enjoy your wine."  Her friend then pointed to her walker and said "We just need to be careful not to get caught when we drink and drive." 

 

 I always envisioned a senior center to be a series of crafts and Bingo games but I didn't want that for my mother. The residence where my mom lives has a very active social group and  what inspires me is that I have not seen a Bingo card yet.

Watching a group of seniors relish the fun in life in spite of their setbacks has been inspiring.  The book was a reminder that emotional walls are built to keep the things we fear out, but they can also hold us hostage in a Vanilla world.  So, I have made it a point to do a few things outside of my comfort zone.  I went on a date or two, signed up for a class, went out with the girls on a weeknight, began to plan a vacation for myself, and I am making time to volunteer. For the first time in a long time I feel like myself again thanks to a great read and some feisty senior citizens.

 

Those Could ..Shoulda... Woulda... Moments

The news sometimes makes me feel as though we have created a society full of professional victims. The Martin/Zimmerman trial is a perfect example.  What was a series of unfortunate choices ended the life of a young man.  Zimmerman should not have tried to follow Martin but Martin was not a blameless victim either. Yet some people are trying to use race as the motivator and the media is jumping on the band wagon to make it headline news because this is a very marketable story.

The truth is that everyone will experience being a victim at some point in their life, this title isn't unique to one gender or one ethnic group. While it is true that the African Americans were made victims by money hungry land owners  weren't the American Indians equally victimized?  The  Scottish people were victims when Britain took their land and stripped them of their culture, women were victims in their own right for years and they still are in some countries.  After reading the book 'The Killing Fields' we must include the Cambodians in our list of victims, do not forget the Vietnamese, the LBG community,  and I cannot forget to mention the Jews who were held captive, starved, tortured, and slaughtered by Hitler.   I have to ask myself, if Zimmerman were German and Martin were a Jew, what would the  headlines say?  What  I find disturbing is the fact that we have two people who each handled a situation poorly. The case was tried by a Jury and the Jury reached a verdict.Yet, instead of focusing on the fine line between murder and self defense, which is what this should be about, this has turned into a debate that focuses on racism. 

Every one will be a victim at some point in their lives.  History reminds that every group has been victimized at some point in history and everyone of us is at risk for experiencing a setback as we move through life. When bad things happen we are left with two choices, we can hold onto a bitterness that will eventually turn to hate or we can learn from our experiences then move forward with unstoppable resilience to make this world a better place.

 

 

'Cause yesterday's got nothin' for me
Old pictures that I'll always see
Some things could be better
In my book of memories
Prayers in my pocket
And no hand in destiny
I'll keep on movin' along
With no time to plant my feet

'Cause yesterday's got nothin' for me
Old pictures that I'll always see
Some things could be better
If we'd all just let them be

Guns N Roses

Yesterday

 

 

 

My life has not been perfect. I have had instances where I was the victim, life was unfair, bad things happened that I had no control over, or I made a mistake that I now regret.  However, we reap what we sow.  Dwelling on the "coulda..shoulda ...woulda" parts of the past is not only unproductive, these thoughts are like weeds that try to take over my garden.  Those who spend time wallowing in anger and bitterness could make better use of their emotion by telling their story in a way to make productive change.  We have the power to damn or to liberate ourselves by how we respond to the bad things in life.  Focusing on the bad things will hinder our progression but focusing on the possibilities is what will keep us moving in the right direction.

All of those bad things that happened in our history are tragic and really shouldn't have happened but no one can change the past.  All we can do now is to learn from history and then use unstoppable resilience to try and make a better future.  Happiness is a choice and my choice is to prevent those weeds from taking over my garden so I can create plenty of room for the flowers  to grow. 

Disclaimer:  If I  forgot to mention someone who is a victim in this writing then consider this my acknowledgement that, I didn't mean to contribute to your victimization by not acknowledging you  and I am sorry that I didn't bring attention to your "coulda..shoulda...woulda" moments.

Airports and Hospitals

Walking into the airport this afternoon I was filled with emotion.  Part of my emotional response came from a sense of sadness because my daughter was leaving and it will be quite some time before I will get to see her again.  However, even without my own personal drama, the two places that always touch some emotional part of me  are airports and hospitals.  After giving it some thought, I realized that these two places are the nucleus of constant change. It is at the Airport or the Hospital where someone important to me either came into my world or was removed from it.

My first memory of the airport was when my brother was being deployed to Vietnam. I was in kindergarten at the time and I didn't really understand what was happening. A few weeks later I went with my parents to see a movie and discovered the tragedies of war.  I had nightmares for days afterward.  To this day I still avoid war movies and the sight of a man in uniform boarding a plane makes my throat tighten with emotion. 

As a teenager my boyfriend joined the air force.  After taking him to the airport, and watching his plane lift off as he headed for boot camp,  I felt intensely sad watching someone I cared about leaving for an indefinite period of time.  I recall that I cried for some time after he left. When he got his first leave to return home, he stepped off the plane wearing a leisure suit that his mother had made for him. He had warned me ahead of time but that orange and green plaid suit with pants that were about three inches too short and the matching tie still made my jaw drop.  Although the relationship didn't last, the memory of that suit is still fresh in my mind.  It was a testament to his respect for his mother that he actually wore that suit in public.  Each time I pass the old airport terminal I smile as I remember that orange plaid suit.

While he was alive, my father in law would visit us once a year.  He would exit the ramp with his baseball cap that had a Blue Jay insignia on it.  As he approached he would try to mimic an American accent and say "Well...Hello Guys!"  I would laugh every single time.  It hurts to know  he is gone and that I will never again see that exit but I think of him each time I wait at the airport for someone to arrive or see a replica of his baseball cap. 

As I watched my beautiful daughter walk off to board her plane I stood for a moment silently watching and remembering.   Although my baby girl is a young woman now, in my mind I still sense the little girl who used to come with me to the airport skipping along beside me and talking nonstop. Her sweet smile and cheerful little voice helped ease the pain of the many goodbyes I had in  airport terminals and her enthusiasm made the arrivals just that much more exciting.

I suppose that watching my little girl, who is now a young woman, walk toward her gate is simply part of life's rite of passage.  We are born into the world only to spend the rest of our lives experiencing constant arrivals and departures before making our own permanent exit while that part in the middle remains at a place of constant change.  I am looking forward to the day that either my daughter or I will step off of the airplane ramp for our next greeting.  With each plane that I see fly overhead, I focus on this thought.  I miss her  and I look forward to that day more than she will ever know.

The Imprints We Leave Behind

This weekend is father's day but it is also my dad's birthday.  We celebrated by having a brunch at my house with my son and  his family. When I was young, my dad would let me stand on a chair and 'help' him cook.  This provided quality time with dad and by time I was about eight I knew my way around a kitchen fairly well. I did the same with my children, and now my granddaughter has her very own little pink stool so she can help me in the kitchen. My son's girlfriend has a two year old boy, who is like a grandson to me, and today he too wanted to help so we had to limit her help to clean up and setting the table.

After everyone left  I realized that my garbage disposal was jammed.  I spent an hour of tinkering with it and  finally decided that I may need to call a plumber.  As  I began to scoop out the standing water with a turkey baster, I noticed that the drain looked different.   I ran my fingers around the rim and then I could not keep the smile off of my face as I pulled out a child size glass with little daisies all over it which was wedged down inside of the drain opening.  It made me wonder if it had been put there by my favorite little  helper because when my granddaughter visits, she always leaves something behind. She told my daughter once that it was " to remind nanna that she was there and so nanna would know she was there."   I looked around the room and saw the napkins sitting at a crooked angle in the napkin holder where little James was trying to do his part. Little finger prints were on my glass doors.  I moved my orchid, which was a gift from my son a few months ago, and put it back on the table. Next I washed the cobalt blue glasses that were a gift from my daughter. Then I  looked around for the next chore and realized that I am surrounded by things that always remind me of the people I love, reminders that they have touched my life in wonderful ways.

For example, the egg dish I served in mom's crystal bowl was one of my dad's favorite and dad was the one who taught me to make the blueberry buttermilk pancakes.  I have wonderful memories of standing on a chair as my dad showed me how to tell when the batter was just right and how to know when the pancakes were done.  My buffet has a runner that my grandma made.  Grandma was gifted with needlework and this particular runner is a favorite of mine with embroidery that includes vibrant colors of blue, yellow, and bright pink with hand crocheted edging.  My napkin holder was a gift from my mom many years go.  It is hand blown glass with napkins in it that  have the same colors as the runner. There is also a set of salt and pepper shakers that a dear friend bought for me when she visited Europe. My son's girlfriend had commented on my unusual coffee mug, a mug that my children bought me over twenty years ago.

It isn't the items that mean so much, it is the memories that come with them.  Each person that has touched my life has left an imprint of their presence. The imprint of my children, grandchildren, parents, ancestors, and friends are everywhere in my home and in my life, evoking wonderful memories.  I can only hope that the imprint I leave on their lives will evoke happy memories of me long after I am gone.

Once the clean up was complete,  I walked into my room and  on my bathroom counter, right where I can't miss it,  sits a little pink princess crown.  It is my little angel's message "I was here nanna. Remember me."  ... as though I would ever forget.


Happy Birthday and Happy Father's day to my dad.  I wish I could thank him for the wonderful memories.   I wish he was here so I could leave a  pink crown on his counter and then he too would know that I was here and I am thinking of him always.

Angel On The River

I don't know if I actually believe in Guardian Angels, but I do know that sometimes things happen that defy explanation.  For example, a series of dreams that reunites me with old friends, family, or a granddaughter that I was unaware of.  Events that only my closest friends and I share because I don't want to sound like a lunatic.  Basically, I don't know if I believe in Angels, ghosts, or demons but I  have experienced things that defy explanation so I don't try to understand them. I just accept that there are some things that are beyond my understanding.

 A good friend of mine said that she missed kayaking with me and wanted to get out on a river. I told her that I haven't been paddling regularly so I didn't think a strenuous trip would be advisable until I tone up my paddle muscles again.  We agreed to go down a mild stretch of the river.   Once we were on the water, I was glad that we were navigating a milder current because I noticed that I had to work harder than I did a year ago.

As I paddled the current I remembered the only time that I came close to getting hurt. Over a year ago, my friends and I were on the river in an area that is somewhere between a class II and class III.  I was not giving the current my full attention and got caught in a an eddy that was deep and swift. Although I was able to successfully paddle out of the eddy I was pulled into some large rocks which were sticking out of the water. My kayak became wedged and began to fill with water so I did a quick exit.  The water was only waist high but the current was very swift.  My companions went to the shore and threw a tow line to tie around the kayak and tow it to shore.  As they dislodged the kayak  the current suddenly shifted and pulled me off of my feet. I was swept under the kayak and found myself being swept downstream toward a section with stronger current and very large rocks.  After the initial shock of being submerged, my safety training kicked in. I knew I had to stop being pulled downstream because the swift current and rocks ahead were very dangerous.  Head up, toes pointed, grab rock, on knees, on my feet,  and seconds later I was on shore again walking upstream to my friends who were frantically calling my name.

On this kayak trip  I saw an eddy  with a couple of large rocks sticking out of the water. My heart was in my stomach as I tried to navigate around them but the current was strong.  As I felt my kayak being sucked sideways  into the rocks, the memory of that previous experience surfaced and I did the worst thing possible... I froze. As my kayak began to turn sideways,  I heard a firm voice in my head say  "Either you control that kayak or the current will control you."  I began to paddle and I heard that voice  reminding me "Use your hips. Don't fight the current, just paddle faster than the water." So, I used my hips, put my paddle deep in the water, and paddled as hard as I could. "Dig in and.get control"  Instead of focusing on my fear I focused on that voice. As I felt memories of my training surface I began to regain control and I placed my paddle deep in the water, braced, and used my hips to adjust the kayak. I felt the kayak right itself  ...in my head I heard that voice say "Paddle!! Paddle!!" ....so I  paddled hard.  I used my hips to turn... paddle.. turn,....paddle.... turn again... paddle hard...and then I was out of the eddy and away from the rocks. 

Another kayaker had held back  to make certain that I made it through and told me, "That was a great recovery! I got it on video.  May I put it on  U Tube?"  I replied with a laugh that I was glad my hat and sunglasses were hiding my face. 

My new kayak friend and I paddled together downstream.  On the slower moving parts of the river we talked and shared some stories. At one point we passed a large group of people in canoes and rafts floating near the shore with balloons.  My new friend paddled over to the group and asked if they are celebrating a birthday. 

One lady said,  No, this the anniversary of the day her son died on the river.  Exactly one year to the day. They think he got stuck in some rocks back there, and she pointed toward the area I had just come from,  but they found his body down by the bridge.  This group was floating in his memory and when they reach the bridge  they will release their  balloons .

I remembered that very distinct voice in my head clearly guiding me when I was being pushed into those rocks and I can't help but wonder......

Hidden In Plain Sight

There is someone I know who always makes a point of trying to start conversations with me.  A conversation with her consists of me listening politely with very little of the two way dialogue that a true conversation should consist of.   She is a good person but everything she says is negative and is reflective of victim mentality.   So, when she stopped by my office to talk recently, I pushed my work aside to listen to her rant about the issue that she found irritating at that particular moment. Within minutes her conversation had progressed to how unhappy she is with other areas of her life, complaints about her job, her relationships, or how people treat her.

Finally I asked, "So, what would make you happy with your life?"  
She answers me by saying, " To get up in the morning and be passionate about life, to feel the thrill of the upcoming day."
I asked, "So, what is stopping you?"
She didn't answer for several minutes and then she admitted,  "I don't know." 

I recently saw her in someone else's office complaining about her job, her relationships, how people treat her, and all of the reasons she can't change the situation while the other person sat back listening patiently.  I smiled and kept on walking.

The conversation with this person reminded me of a commencement speech that someone  convinced me to listen to on You Tube.  The speech is by David Foster Wallace and it was delivered in 2005 but, although I found it difficult to sit through the twenty two minute monologue,  I am glad I did listen to it all of the way through because the message is truly memorable.   He said "how we construct meaning in our lives is part of personal and intentional choice."  Next he went through what would be most people's daily routine from the time we hit the snooze button in the morning to the traffic jam on the freeway and the quick stop at the grocery store after a tiring day only to get up the following morning to do it all again.  In summary, he said that this is reality and that the responsibility of being educated is not to guarantee anyone a life of endless excitement and success. The Liberal Arts part of education is to teach us how to think, how to be in the present moment, how to maintain a sense of awareness, and to remember that in every moment we have a choice.  His speech was titled "This Is Water" and he actually begins his speech by telling the tale of two young goldfish swimming along. As an older goldfish swims by he asks the two young fish 'How is the water boys?'  They both automatically say "fine"  but, as the older goldfish swims away, one of the young goldfish turns to the other and asks 'What is water?'

"The real value of a real education has almost nothing to do with knowledge, and everything to do with simple awareness; awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us, all the time, that we have to keep reminding ourselves over and over: 'This is water. This is water.'"

David Foster Wallace

My mother's affairs are almost settled so I now have time to do things other than try to sort through the chaos that was impacting my life over the last year.   My life feels almost normal again and for the past two weeks I have been able to get up on Sunday morning and  do something that I had previously taken for granted.  For two Sundays now I have been able to get up and enjoy my coffee on my patio surrounded by my garden with my dogs at my feet as I read my book.  However, the thrill over having nothing to do for a few  hours on a Sunday morning may eventually become too routine and, if it does,  then I have a choice. I can choose to swim through my routine, blissfully unaware of the possibilities, or I can just continue with the same routine every Sunday from now on while I complain endlessly to anyone who will listen, or I can choose to explore other ways to make my weekend morning special.  The solution, like the water in the goldfish bowl, is hidden in plain sight.    By choosing to maintain an awareness of the fact that there are other options, and know that the choice I make impacts my perspective as much as my perspective impacts my choice, is what will define my  attitude which also defines how I respond to the banalities of life in general.  Maintaining  an awareness that I do have the freedom to choose how I respond to these moments is what  changes an uneventful Sunday morning into an  hour of pure joy on my patio with my coffee, my dogs,  and a good read.

A Lesson From Mom.

"We are what we believe we are." - C. S. Lewis

Although I am not a fan of Hallmark Holidays, as Mother's day approaches I find myself reflecting more on what this holiday means to me.  Well, to be more precise, I find myself reflecting on what my mother means to me because our relationship has had some turbulent years.  Yet, I think in spite of all of the angst, there is a foundation of respect between us. We are very different people yet we are also very much alike in certain ways.

Mom taught me compassion and to appreciate life without the commercialism.  She taught me to be true to myself and that those who criticize me for being different are simply people who can't accept change, however, that does not necessarily mean that I am wrong or that I should conform.

 I grew up in an era where women were fighting for equal rights.  Growing up I read about people who refused to conform, and therefore, they had a great impact on our society.  I began to realize that my mother was onto something.   Mom made certain that I was aware of women like Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, Margaret Sanger.  In my younger years I would listen to my mother and the women of the BPW Club discuss the women's Betty Friedman and the Women's Feminist Movement in the  1960's and 1970's.  I read about people who were different yet impacted history because they were true to themselves.  Martin Luther King, Abraham Lincoln, and Ghandi are a few examples.

 
Thanks to my parents,  I realize that there are always going to be people who will be trying  to convince me that my differences are actually flaws but, whether these people are standing in the spotlight voicing their opinions or standing in the shadows whispering them,  my greatest defense is to know who I am and to believe in myself.  I discovered that one can choose to learn from their mistakes and work to create a better future or we can let our insecurities take us prisoner.  No one is helpless because we have the power of choice and, when that choice is different than what everyone else is doing, we still need to be true to ourselves.

"Everyone is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid." -Albert Einstein

Many great people in history were called failures because they didn't conform.  I have an old Ann Landers column hanging on my refrigerator titled 'Failure can provide a golden lesson.' The failure list is as follows:

Isaac Newton did poorly in grade school and was considered unpromising.

Beethoven's music teacher told him that 'As a composer, he is hopeless.'

Thomas Edison  was told that he lacked intelligence and should make his living by utilizing his pleasant personality

F.W. Woolworth worked in a dry goods store but his employer would not promote him because he didn't have "enough sense to close a sale."

Walt Disney was fired from a newspaper job because "he lacked imagination and had no good ideas.'

Winston Churchill struggled in school and had to take the 6th grade twice.

Babe Ruth struck out 1300 times, a major league record.

Thanks to my upbringing, trying to be someone I am not so I can meet the expectations of society, is not who I am.   I can get plastic surgery to erase my physical flaws and learn behave in a way that is foreign to me in an attempt to gain acceptance of others but, if I were to do these things, I would risk losing a part of myself in the process.  Everyone is unique but not everyone will be accepting of the differences and, good or bad,  the differences are what set us apart.. What is  important is that I accept who I am and, thanks to my mother, I do accept myself for who I am.  This is the one lesson I tried to share with my own children.  As a result of this lesson I am grateful to my mother, I am proud of my children, and I am happy with the person I am still learning to be.  Thank you to my parents and thank you to my mom for this invaluable lesson.

....we dive headfirst into the endless project of improving our physical selves. No cosmetic strategy ever fulfills our hopes, since what we hope for—the knowledge that we’re acceptable—is almost completely unrelated to physical appearance.

Martha Beck.

 

 

Happy Mother's Day

Taking Out The Trash

Just when I think that I have it all figured out, life throws me a curve.  In the last ten months, since I got the call to help my  mom, I began a journey of reflection and forgiveness.  To my surprise,  I discovered that forgiveness is not so much about the relationship, or the other person. Forgiveness is about setting ourselves free.  It is more like taking out the trash.  The trash still exists, we have simply moved it to another place so it cannot pollute our living environment.

We humans are imperfect beings so it is inevitable that people will hurt us at some point in time.  Sometimes the hurt is intentional and sometimes  it is because  two people will look at same situation and see things from a different perspective but, if we carry the pain of the past  with us everywhere we go, we  risk becoming a prisoner of our own pain and resentment.  My first step in the forgiveness process was to give people room to be human, to make mistakes, and  to be who God made them to be.  Just like the garbage in my trash bin, my past has not changed, I have simply  moved it to a different place so it can no longer pollute my spirit.

 I think that sometimes we are reluctant to forgive because we don't want to be hurt  again  but forgiveness and trust are two separate animals.  Forgiveness does not mean making ourselves vulnerable to someone who could cause us harm.  Forgiveness is simply the house cleaning process of letting go so past hurts no longer have any power over us and, as a result, it frees us to enjoy the present moment.

I read once that everything in life has a purpose and that nothing in life is wasted.  There must be truth in this because some of my greatest life lessons came from times of adversity.  Since great lessons can come from those painful times, I suppose that this is a form of recycling the emotional garbage in such a way that yesterday's waste does not block the path to a future of purpose and happiness.

"One man's trash is another man's gold."
Unknown

http://vimeo.com/52711779

The link above is  a short documentary video about a town in South America that literally sits on a landfill. They took what others considered garbage and recycled it into something amazing. This video reminded me that there is potential for good in everything and that the potential for beauty is everywhere. Everything begins with our perspective and the end result depends on what we do with the garbage that is left behind. 

White Blood Cells

My senses have been on overload with the violent images put in front of me by the media.  Horrific images of the bombing at the Boston Marathon, an explosion of a Fertilizer plant in Texas took lives and leveled homes, and then an all out manhunt for bombing suspects in Boston.  Over the last week it was impossible to turn on the news or the radio without receiving minute by minute updates on these stories. 

I am not saying that it isn't important to  understand what is happening but a constant stream of violence and negativity being forced into my world for an entire week was almost too much. I had big plans this weekend beginning with a girls night out with my cousins. During our outing I received a message from my daughter, who is living in China, saying  that she was standing in the street unable to enter her building because of an earthquake that was strong enough to make international news. At that point, my tragedy meter was on overload. I just needed a weekend of solitude to recover so I rearranged my schedule.

Yesterday I began to look for Internet stories with a more positive theme and what I found confirmed that I am not the only one who has had enough of horrific images from the media.  One recurring quote  in articles that had a more positive flavor was the one from Mr. Rogers who said that when a catastrophe happens, "Look for the helpers." 

I began to surf the Internet and found many heartwarming stories that were not getting attention because they were buried beneath the violent ones.  There  is more good than bad in this world but the bad is what gets the media attention.  One article, written by comedian Patton Oswalt, compared good people to the white blood cells in our body,   "But the vast majority stands against that darkness and, like white blood cells attacking a virus, they dilute and weaken and eventually wash away the evildoers and, more importantly, the damage they wreak. This is beyond religion or creed or nation."

I guess this is just how life is, the white blood cells are there in great numbers just doing their work without trying to get attention.  As a result, the red blood cells just get all of the attention because that is all that is immediately visible.  It is up to us to look deeper if we want to see both sides of a situation.

Moving Beyond Indifference

Most of us were taught to respect life and show compassion to others so  when innocent people, especially children, are killed without reason it falls beyond of my scope of understanding.  It would be easy to allow anger and sadness to dominate my thoughts but if I gave control to the negative emotions then I would be no better than the person who placed the bombs or pulled the trigger. To say nothing sends a message of indifference and acceptance but when we, as a nation, speak out against these acts of hate we send a message of strength and unity. 

" We can be pitiful or we can be powerful but we cannot be both at the same time."

Joel O'steen

I was heartbroken when I heard that someone put bombs at the finish line of the Boston Marathon but I began to feel a sense of pride in my fellow Americans when I read that, after the bombs went off, instead of running away, strangers were running toward the dust and risking their own lives to help others.  These people represent the America that my brother, father, and grandfathers fought for. These are the people who make this a great nation, this is a reflection of the values that our nation was founded on, and this is why I am proud to be an American.

Usually, a terrorist wants people to know why he did it.  Since the 19th century, when terrorism began assassinations in Europe, they signed their assassinations. What joy does the assassin draw from killing people? Try to understand that. You can’t.”  Elie Wiesel

Elie Wiesel was a Jew, born in 1928, and a Holocaust survivor.  He could have gone through life carrying a blanket of hatred and wallowing in self pity but instead he made a negative experience have a positive outcome.  Instead of harboring an attitude of resentment,  he spent the remainder of his life working to create change by teaching tolerance and acceptance to others.   He and his wife started the Elie Wiesel Foundation for Humanity.  Their mission statement is "Our mission is to combat indifference, intolerance, and injustice through international dialogues and youth focused programs that promote acceptance, understanding and equality.  The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.  The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference.  The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference.  The opposite of life is not death, it's indifference."



If we lose a loved one to a disease, such as cancer, we continue to fight long after the disease has claimed it's victim by doing whatever we need to do to fund research and raise awareness.  I will not pretend to understand these heinous acts committed against innocent people but it makes me feel as though our society today is fighting it's own form of cancer.  The bombing at the Boston Marathon supports the concept that gun control is not the answer to the America's problem with violence.  Restricting access to guns will not cure the disease, it only forces someone to find a different weapon. America's disease stems from an attitude of indifference in a violent culture that has desensitized some people to the pain of others. What I find worrisome is that the bible says that every sin begins with a  thought yet our society is saturated with images of violence and hate.  If you doubt me, just turn on the television.

 However, we have a choice.  We can choose to become victims or we can become victors depending on how we respond to these terrible acts of violence.  As a nation, we must move forward with integrity and be tolerant of the differences but we must also teach tolerance. We must nurture compassion towards others but we must also teach compassion.  As individuals we must avoid indifference by speaking up and letting our voices be heard.  When  we remain silent we send a message of apathetic acceptance but  when we speak up, even of others disagree with us,  we are telling the world that we are not indifferent, we are not in a state of apathetic acceptance, we care, we matter, and the victims matter.

The victims of these violent acts have lost their voice but we have not and when we speak up for what we believe we honor  them and become their voice. Speak up America!   Our words could be the first step towards a positive change.

"There is so much to be done, there is so much that can be done. One person - a Raoul Wallenberg, an Albert Schweitzer, Martin Luther King, Jr. - just one person of integrity, can make a difference, a difference of life and death.

As long as one dissident is in prison, our freedom will not be true. As long as one child is hungry, our life will be filled with anguish and shame. What all these victims need above all is to know that they are not alone; that we are not forgetting them, that when their voices are stifled we shall lend them ours, that while their freedom depends on ours, the quality of our freedom depends on theirs."

Elie Wiesel, Nobel prize speech.

Mom's Garden

Revisiting the past is  tricky business because one can't return to  their past without leaving part of themselves behind and we can't return home without bringing part of our past back with us. 

 It is necessary to make the trip home almost every weekend to finalize mom's affairs.  In the beginning, the memories were overwhelming and the emotional impact was taking it's toll as I closed the door on my childhood one item at a  time.  As we worked through the process, I eventually began to gain control over the emotional part of this journey and this allowed me to keep my focus on the work that needed to be done.

My sister and I both have birthdays in the first week of April and, since this was our birthday weekend, we would make this a quick trip just to take care of a few  items of business and return home by early afternoon.  The hills were covered with flowers which evoked memories of the many trips with my parents through these mountains in the Spring. My mother loves to garden and I still envy her green thumb because it seemed that she could just put anything in the ground and in a few weeks she had a beautiful plant. As we pulled in front of her house, the first thing I saw were the Purple Bearded Iris  and the lilac blooms on her Lilac Bush.  All of my emotional control melted for a moment because, as long as I can remember, mom always had a garden which included the Purple Bearded Iris, lilacs, and roses. I loved the spring when her flowers were beginning to bloom but I haven't seen her garden in springtime for many years. Walking up to the doorway I saw fennel beginning to grow and the fig tree that she nurtured from a twig years ago was bearing it's small flowers. Since no one is watering the plants I was amazed that the plants were thriving.  The garden was coming back to life on it's own.  It was as though the garden refused to give up on her, blooming in spite of everything...just waiting for her to return home and nurture them.

We are at the house so often that we are familiar faces in the neighborhood now and we have a stream of people stopping by to talk, offer to help, or to ask after my mother. I don't know if it was mom's garden or the small town camaraderie but it was more difficult to leave this time so we ended up leaving as the sun was setting behind the mountains.  Mom's garden, the small town camaraderie, and the drive through these familiar mountains on my birthday weekend broke down all of the walls of emotional detachment that I have worked so hard to keep erected. At one point my sister and I shared a look of understanding and I realized that my sister is the only other person on this earth who can truly share these moments with me. I was glad that she was there.

I left home more than thirty years ago and my life bears little resemblance to the world I grew up in.  The relationship with my mother has always been strained and after my father passed away I became even farther removed  but, when I saw mom's garden coming to life,  I felt as though I had rediscovered a part of myself amongst her Purple Irises and Lilacs. It felt as if a part of me has been laying dormant,  patiently waiting in that garden for many years. It was  the sight of mom's flowers which helped that part of me begin to bloom again. I had always hoped for  a closer relationship with my mother but she and I were never able to achieve that. Now it is too late.  A love of flowers was one of the few things that she and I had in common so seeing her garden in bloom brought back a wave of good memories.

As my childhood home is dismantled and sold, one piece at a time, I am saddened as I realize that this is the last time I will see my mother's garden.  I wish that I could pick up the garden and take it with me.  Yet I feel as though a part of me will always be in that garden, or sitting in front of the window upstairs watching the mountains in the distance.  Seeing her favorite flowers bloom, just as they have bloomed every spring for more than forty years, helped me understand that my home has always been in my heart waiting patiently for the sight of lilacs and irises to help the memories blossom and grow again.  I found a part of myself that was lost in that garden but I also  left a piece of myself behind,  nestled amongst mom's flowers.  

The Power Of The Fork

 

Cooking and nutrition have always been my hobbies. Growing up, my parents grew their own vegetables and fruits. We had chickens for meat and eggs. Dad raised a cow or two for meat and dairy.  In summer, my mother and several other ladies would have canning parties.  Each woman would take items from their garden and preserve them through canning.  The home made apricot preserves were my favorite. 

 

My lifestyle doesn't allow time for a full garden but I do enjoy growing my own herbs and I have a few fruit trees. I also collect old cookbooks and enjoy trying authentic cooking styles. While living in Hong Kong, I was introduced to a whole new world of new culinary adventures.  Not only did I discover new types of foods, but food preparation was elevated to a completely new level as I watched delicious food being prepared in ways I would never have imagined.    In Asia, they take the term "you are what you eat" literally. Even the snacks are healthy and natural.   I took what I learned in Asia and began to build on it to develop my own cooking style. 

 

  

I became aware of genetically modified fruits and vegetables in the late 1990's but it wasn't until I connected red meat with my stomach issues that I learned about genetically modified meats.  I am not Catholic but I do like the concept of Lent and each  year I sacrifice something for Lent, using the money I would have spent on that item for charity.  Six years ago, I began having stomach troubles.  I was treated for ulcers and nervous stomach without success until one year I gave up red meat for Lent. Once I stopped eating the red meat, my stomach troubles completely disappeared.  I have been meat free and without stomach issues ever since.

 

I hesitate to label myself as a vegetarian, although I am about two steps short of that label, because I come from a long line of hunters. However, hunters live by a code of ethics. Kill with mercy and eat what you kill. Based on what I have learned about meat production and meat processing in our world today, neither of these codes apply.

 

I am not a vegetarian but I am no longer a true carnivore either.  Occasionally I will eat chicken and fish if they are purchased from a reliable source and I still eat dairy. Eliminating red meat wasn't as difficult as I initially thought it would be and my meat free diet actually compliments my adventurous culinary spirit. In fact, my new eating style forced me to think outside of the normal roast beef and potato menu. I have always enjoyed cooking and I love good food so eliminating red meat also meant that I had to learn to eat outside of my comfort zone because I will not settle. My meals need to be healthy, but they must be enjoyable too.  Anyone sitting to dinner at my table will not find grilled steak but they may find things like Jambalaya rice with prawns, a salad of mixed greens and roasted beets, steamed vegetables, barley salad, or salmon steamed on the grill with corn and hot bread.  I have never had anyone finish a meal at my table and say they missed the read meat.  Not once.

 

I am at the half century mark now and my blood pressure is normal, my cholesterol is normal, my blood sugar is normal, and my overall health is above average.  While I have friends who are taking medications daily, I have no health issues.  I attribute this to what I choose to put on my fork.  All of us are busy so we are inclined to take short cuts at meal time. However, we have a responsibility to take ownership of what we put on our plates.  After all, we are what we eat.

 

 

How could it be that the price of gas and the price of our food are correlated? As gas prices rise, so do food prices. This is largely due to confined animal feeding operations (CAFOs), which are the factories that produce our meat. Cows raised in CAFOs are "grown" on a bed of corn, and the corn they eat is grown on petrochemical and pharmaceutical farms.

The fertilizers, pesticides, and herbicides used on these farms are generally oil byproducts. The more oil that's used -- both by way of gasoline-driven farm equipment needed to process such massive monoculture crops and the increased use of these chemical inputs -- the more expensive the meat raised on CAFOs becomes.

These factory farms are producing "Frankenmeat" that destroys our bodies and degrades our environment at an ever-increasing cost. We must ask ourselves every time we shop, "What is the real cost of cheap food?"

Industrial food production doesn't just require more energy and contribute to global warming, it also exposes us to harm because the foods we eat contain altered proteins, fats, and sugars, as well as unhealthy antibiotics and hormones.

Pharmaceuticals have become essential to our "modern" food production. Of the 24 million pounds of antibiotics produced each year in this country, 19 million are put into feed for factory-farmed animals to prevent infection (which results from overcrowding) and to prevent cows' stomachs from exploding as a result of the excess gas produced by fermenting corn in their rumens, the first chamber of a cow's stomach.

Hormones in our food supply create similarly severe problems. They are typically used to promote rapid growth of our feed animals. They also promote rapid growth of little girls' breasts, which is why we see 8-year-old girls going through puberty and an increase in reproductive cancers such as breast and prostate cancer.

The truth is that we consume far more animal products than our bodies need. In the China Study, Colin Campbell from Cornell University showed that animal protein might dramatically increase the risk of cancer. (I)

 

Mark Hyman, M.D.

Huffington Post Article

It Begins With A Single Thought

"If you let the enemy control your thoughts, he will control your whole life. Guard your mind."

Joel Osteen
 

When life gets too busy, I find it hard to focus. In my frustration, I end up working harder, and accomplishing less, which takes my stress to whole new level.   Life has been too busy recently  but something reminded me that every defeat, every sin, every doubt, and every success begins with a single thought. The unnecessary distractions only serve to keep me from reaching my goal.

"When you're at peace you're in a position of power."

Joel Osteen

I joined a Dragon Boat Team and the first thing we learned was that if we allowed the distractions to be our focus, we would not paddle effectively.  This was easy during practice because there were not many distractions.  The drummer on the boat sets the rhythm and our oars would slice the water with each drum beat.   As a result, the 20 paddlers would work as in unity to move the boat forward.  Technique, not strength, is what made the boat move faster.

When race day arrived I wasn't sure of what I should expect. I arrived early, parked the car, threw my gear on my back, grabbed my Starbucks,  and began to slowly stroll to our meeting place.  After walking about half of a block I heard shouts of "one-two one-two" behind me. I turned in time to see a group of muscled young men with custom paddles, bags of gear, and shirts that said "Fire Dragons" jogging in unity towards the area where the teams had their tents.  I could not help but wonder how a group of bankers... with desk jobs... and middle age spread could compete against these teams.  "Team Community" was our team name and we are competing against teams like The Killer Guppies who have custom paddles and their own shirts. When I arrived at the race I saw news crews everywhere and almost had a meltdown.   I haven't had an identity crisis this intense since grade school.

A couple of my fellow paddlers were voicing my thoughts.  Our team leader reminded us that it is technique, not strength that will make us effective so  a deep breath and focus is what will help us to do our best.  There were two races on Saturday and two on Sunday. With each race, the teams would either qualify to compete in the next race or they would be eliminated. In the first race we came in second place and we were thrilled.  The next race we didn't do as well but we did qualify.

 On Sunday  our drummer told us "Remember to focus and tune out the distractions.  If you are looking at the other boat then you are looking at the winner.  The only way to win this race is to keep your eyes on me and focus on doing what you do best." We tuned out the distractions and kept our focus. As a result, we placed first in our division.  It was an exciting moment but I took away more from this experience than a new paddling technique. I realized that what I learned on that boat should be applied to my daily life.   When I allow myself to become too busy and focus on life's many distractions it prevents me from bringing out the best version of myself.   I have allowed the world to intrude, blurring my vision, so I no longer have a clear view of what is really important. 

As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives.

Henry David Thoreau

The saying "Attitude is Everything" got it right. It all begins  with a single thought.  The bible says to love others as we love ourselves but how can I love and encourage others if my own thoughts are critical and self defeating?  Our team almost lost the race before we ever put a paddle in the water simply because we allowed distractions to create thoughts of self doubt.  On that first morning our focus was on how great the other teams appeared instead of what great things we can do. This experience showed me that I need to start each day by focusing on the positive things in my life and  block self defeating thoughts.  Everything we are, and everything we could be,  begins with a single thought.