Fear Gets In the Way

Things I Want To Remember for 2010

The things that have enriched my life the most this year were the very things that I nearly walked away from, due to fear and what-ifs.

* a new address. A real honest-to-goodness home sweet home. I have a kitchen big enough to rollerskate in, a yard that is filled with trees and broccoli and tomatoes and pecans and blueberries and tulips and camellias and roses, with more to be planted in the coming years. I have a front porch, and a sunny yet shaded back porch. These are places that bring me simple joy.

Yes, there is upkeep and grown-up responsibilities, but those tasks are okay. I'm getting better about asking for help, and I'm indebted to a precious and reliable growing circle of family and friends and neighbors who have pitched in this year. This brick ranch was the not the house I saw in my mind's eye, but it has been an answer to prayer in so many ways that are beyond my earthly imagination.

* my dream job. A role that I have been preparing for since 2004, and maybe even before that. And yet, I nearly walked away from it, because again, it wasn't what I expected it to look like. And yet, somehow, it is exactly right. I'm growing and settling in. It is good.

Be well.

The Power of Touch

A dear friend of mine is a hugger... of everyone. With a simple hug, she connects with people in ways that amaze and puzzle me. With a humanity-restoring hug, she closes the chasm of enemy and stranger, and turns them into friends. She draws people to her with trust and kindness.

Her example of love in action has taught me this:

The people who seem to be the most unhuggable need a hug the most.

That simple reality has made me stop in my tracks more than once. At one time or another, haven't we all been that person who needed someone to care about us, even in our most unlovable state?

In this season of giving and gorging, a hug is a one-size-fits-all gift of yourself.

Be well.

The Best Gift

"The best of all is, God is with us."
-- John Wesley's last words, 1791

Pass Around The Thankfulness

Every Thanksgiving, it is our family custom to go around the table and announce what one thing we are thankful for this year. Yes, it is hokey and predictable, but I like doing it. This year, we waited until after dessert was served before beginning the round.

Topping my gratitude list was a new job, (my dream job, actually) to which my brother responded, "We've been telling you all along that you needed to be doing something different. You don't listen."

And I thought about what my dear brother had said (tempering my response, since it was Thanksgiving, after all), and replied, "You know, you're absolutely right. But if I hadn't had those other painful experiences, I wouldn't be half as grateful as I am now."

For years, I had counseled people, "What do you like to do? What are you good at? What's your dream job?"

And now.. Finally ... I have the chance to see if I can make my own dreams come true. It is a thrilling experiment, indeed.

Be well.

Let's Just Say "See You Later"

It was easier than I thought to clear out my desk, boxing up books and personal effects. When it was all done, 30 months of my life fit neatly in two small cardboard crates. As I hauled them out to my car, there sat a solitary man on the crumbling cement wall out in the parking lot. I asked if I could help him, and he said, "No, I just wanted to tell you goodbye. I saw your car was still in the lot. We're going to miss you."

I don't even know this guy's name or his story, but I thought that was a terribly nice and decent thing to do.

That was just one of many nice moments yesterday. But what made my heart splinter most of all was when the Board Chairman asked, "If A. has helped you or made a difference in your life, will you please stand?" And as I looked out at this huge crowd, and saw them rising to their feet, and clapping (for me!), my tears must have been as big as boulders. All I could do was look back in their faces, and whisper thank you.

I am so undeserving.
So embarrassingly undeserving of any of this.

Afterwards, as I stood for over an hour, shaking hands and hugging the many good people who have traveled on this journey with me, I had to be even more stoic:

"Why do you have to leave us?"
"We're all miserable you're leaving."
"I thought you would always be here. Who's going to do the work?"
"I know you gotta go, but I'm going to miss you, anyway."

It was a sentimental, and special send-off. I can't wait to see what's around the bend.

Be well.

Beauty From Within

Of all the memories I have of my Grandmother, the one I think I will treasure most of all is this:

A short, white-haired lady, sitting tall, all 96 years and 11 months of her, riding a stationary bicycle, legs peddling, arms pumping, and head thrown back in joyful song.

As she sat by the window, with the warm sunlight pouring through the glass panes, she had the most beatific smile. You couldn't help but be enchanted by her delight.

The poet William Blake said that,"Exuberance is Beauty."

If this is true, then surely my Grandmother was the most beautiful woman in the room yesterday.

Be well. (and be exuberant!)

This Election Eve

"Some of us will do our jobs well and some will not, but we will be judged by only one thing: the result." V. Lombardi

All politicians would be wise to remember this admonishment from the Coach.

Be well.

A Cheerful Giver

This year, like all the other years before, I received a beautiful "Love and Blessngs" card and birthday check from my Grandmother. And just like every year before, in return, I wrote her a proper thank-you letter, and detailed how that money was spent.

I'm aware that birthday checks don't come everyday. And yes, I am probably too old for them by now.

So this year, for the first time, (insert "D'Oh! Why did I never think of this before?), I held an interesting experiment.

I gave the money away.
Well, most of it.

No blinks, no regrets, just the simple act of giving to people and causes that are near to my heart. More to the point, I chose ones that I thought Grandma would like: literacy, evangelism, breast cancer awareness, and current events.

And it was FUN! It was exciting deciding where to invest this October windfall. It's one thing to write a check in response to a campaign letter, or phone call, but it's entirely different to say, "Hey, I like you. Here's some money: keep up the good work!"

* I gave money to my friend S., who ran in Race for the Cure.

* Dinero was dashed off to my friend R., who will soon be entering her 10th year in the mission field.

* Moolah was mailed to Imagination Library, so that children who live in homes without books can now look forward to receiving a free book in the mail, EVERY MONTH from birth to age five. Yippee!

The last two on the list are important to the unique foundations of this country: a free press and saving for the future.

* NY Times. Now thrown at the end of my driveway in the mornings is "All The News That's Fit to Print." I love it. It reminds me that this giant blue watery ball of earth is full of interesting, complex, relevant people and places. We're all connected, whether we want to admit it or not.

* Rainy Day Fund. The rest of the birthday present this year went into savings. A smart woman (or nation, for that matter!) is one who knows how to save money and take care of things.

This gift I received this year is because my Grandmother knew how to save, as well as share.

Be well.

Loyal Warrior

"Our children are living messages we send to a time and place we will never see."

... I think this includes nephews, too.

Last weekend, he and I went to a Native American celebration at a nearby park. He was very excited about this latest adventure, and reminded me repeatedly that his great-great-great somebody was "100% Indian." I listened to the enthusiastic pride in his voice, and replied, "You know, Buddy, that means you're a warrior yourself. That means you work hard for the things that matter, and you don't give up." As we drove the long road to the park, I pressed on,"You know, Buddy, one of the things I admire most about you is your loyalty. You are a good friend. You have a gift for looking out for people. That one trait will serve you well in life, if you are a good friend."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell he was listening, and grinning a little.

From the moment he was born, he's had to work harder than most. He's my inspiration, and if I could give him a world without any more pain or disappointment, I would.

Be well.

That Whole Work-Life Balance Thing

I'm not sure what gets the credit: the early morning meditation, the exercise routine that follows, or the new vitamins.

Years ago, I participated in guided meditation classes in a granola-y,-Every-day-is- Earth-Day,-can't-we-all-just-get-along part of town. As much as I loved that neighborhood, those were some of the longest evenings, where time ticked...ticked...ticked by so slowly in that blank, still room. Emptying and quieting one's mind required inner discipline I didn't possess then, and wasn't all that interested in obtaining. Frankly, I spent more time trying to catch other people's eye, trying to make them break pose and laugh out loud.

In any case, meditation this time around feels more centering and not such a power struggle.

All this healthy stuff means I've been making some other choices, too, like separating from some fruitless activities unworthy of my time and effort. It's funny: once you do rake out the cobwebbed debris of old patterns and mind games, suddenly the calendar cracks wide, and expands for more fun, enlightening stuff.

Lately, I've been building into the workday little bits of things that make ME happy: photography, film editing, writing, daydreaming, reading, visiting, music, laughing.

I've gone out of my way, in small, but significant steps, to actually live out what I believe deep down, which is that life is good. Not perfect, but good.

I'm thanking God more for the blue sky, and the four hundred million other things I take for granted. I'm trying to be thankful for the things that are now, the things that were, and the things that are to come.

(Yep, it's a long list.)


This happy burst of energy, however long it lasts, is welcome, and I hope it stays a while.

Be well.

Brains and Hearts

Today one of my favorite people came in for a chat. She keeps her weekly visits brief, always punctuated with calm smiles and generous doses of humanity. Today, though, the conversation turned, and I learned more about her husband, and the challenges he's faced since his brain injury a few years ago. She shared about his depression, and their collective frustration over his short-term memory.

All I could do was nod and listen, and hand her tissues.

I thought of a hundred ideas to share, but today, I think she just needed someone to talk to. Somebody who could relate. That somebody was me today.

Less than an hour after she left, the phone rang, and I learned that someone who had listened to me for countless hours over the past six years, had died. I'm having a delayed reaction to this, and I can't fathom that someone who was so strong for so many is not here any longer.

Dr. C. was pragmatic, and sensible, and funny. She was also a laser beam - able to look squarely at a problem, and then get you to talk about ways to cope with it. She asked the questions that we were often too tired, or close to, or frightened, to ask.

Dr. C. made us dig for, and expand, our internal resources, but at the end of every time together, you were better for it. That newly-discovered strength made us stronger for the people we cared about.

Maybe that's her legacy: she imbued so much encouragement and hope to others, that now that same strength is still going out into the universe, to the people who need it most.

Be well.

Sermon for Control Freaks 2.0

"Peace is accepting that God is God, you're not, and being okay with that."

Growing Old Is Optional

"Today is the youngest you will ever be. Live like it." - M. Cuban

Life's Beautiful... & Funny

My Grandmother is 96, and laughs ... a lot.

Laughter for things she can't remember any more.

Laughter for the beautiful absurdity of life.

Laughter for people rushing and fussing.

More often than not, I think of my Mom who continues to smile daily, and so often says when things go wrong, "You might as well laugh than cry."

They're both right.

Be well.

In the Good Old Summertime

Today, I made a quick trip to Atlanta, for business and to see some dear friends. As I drove down that familiar stretch of Ponce, avoiding potholes and pedestrians, I was briefly homesick seeing my old stomping grounds again. For 15 years, I loved this city, and it loved me back.

The day flew by too quickly, but rather than feel sadness that it was over, I was excited to be driving home.

HOME.

I'm finally here. And it suits me just fine.

Glad to be off the road, I stretch out on the back porch, watching the sun set and the birds flit around the leaves and curves of the trees.

All is well as we wait for summer to arrive.

Be well.

Learning to Lean

There are some things you learn best in calm, and some in storm.
- Willa Cather

I am learning quite a lot this week... and leaning on others when the storms do roll into view.

Leaning's not my style, man.

There you have it, there's my declaration of independence.

As a child, I would often tightly squinch my blue eyes shut, certain that if I couldn't see them, they surely couldn't see me, either. (Ah, the super twin powers of imagination and invisibility!)

The older I get, though, the more my eyes open wide to the fact that life really is what Ms. Streisand sang about: "People. People who need people."

Not a one of us walk through this world alone.

And whether it's the homeless kid who lights up when he sees me and calls me by name, or my Mom who has spent nearly every morning this week lining cabinets with fresh shelf paper in my new house, or the local printer who remembers the job I brought in two months ago, or the minister who seemed to know every hurt of my heart, and then wrapped it all up so beautifully in prayer, or my niece who taught me how to ride a tree swing, or any of the other hundreds of people I see on a weekly basis, they all let me lean on them.

Most of them don't even know it, nor do they have any idea how much strength they share.

They help keep my heart full... and my eyes open.

Be well.

Missing Mary

My friend, Miss Mary, died yesterday.

"Her heart simply gave out."

I thought about the secretary's choice of words for a long while after I hung up the phone and stared at the wall.

I first met Miss Mary in 2008, after we were matched together as part of a shut-in visitation program. She lived in a nursing home that wasn't convenient to anything, and had no family, other than a nephew in another state. The first time I went to visit her, she was in the hospital, where we quickly became fast friends.

Initial visiting instructions in this volunteer program were fairly strict: don't stay more than 15 minutes at a time, don't talk too much about yourself, and several other rules that were quickly tossed out at Miss Mary's whim.

Most days, I felt like a guest on the "Live with Mary" show. She always laughed in all the right places at my stories, and replied with quick zingers of her own.

Miss Mary had no children, and instead loved and taught 3rd graders for nearly 20 years. To her, these now-grown men will always be her special pupils.

When I met Miss Mary, it was clear that she was the belle of this particular facility, a favorite of all the nurses and residents. She had that rare gift for listening with her heart. Everyone had a special nickname from her, like "Romeo" and "Doll." Decked out in full-on rosy makeup and plastic beads, she wheeled down the corridors laughing along the way.

I think she made it her life's mission to try to make other people happy, and worked hard to add a little joy to that bleak cinder block building.

Lately, she had been talking more about her husband, who died many years ago. She missed him terribly, and would often refer to a photograph taken after WWII. He, dressed in his uniform, while she in her classic navy dress and pumps, held his hand, and smiled broadly. "This", she would say, tapping the glass covering Louis' face, "was the love of my life."

When I saw Miss Mary last week, it was her roommate, Minnie, who I silently thought looked like death, clutched up small in her hospital bed, mewing like a kitten. Miss Mary would simply pat her hand, and say, "It's all right, Min, it's okay, Doll."

In the end, though, it was Miss Mary's own heart, which had given so much love to so many, that gave out first.

I will miss her.

Be well.

This Time Around

For the first time in a LONG time, I am back in school! Not much has changed since the first time around: A loaded syllabus that initially made my eyes pop out, the silent sizing-up of the other students, the notebook and uncapped pen, ready to take copious notes.

This time, however, the class is now a "smart learning facility", offering every available advanced wireless and environmentally-friendly design choice. From the recessed LED lighting, to the sustainable fiber carpet, to the non-toxic, soothing paint choices, the classroom is geared towards eliminating distractions. (Very clever, Mr. Architect, putting all the windows at the back of the room!).

This time around, I'm on the bubble of being classified as one of those "non-traditional" (read: OLDER) students.

This time around, I'm taking class seriously.

This time around, I can relate to the examples given by the professor.

This time around, I offer relevant, vibrant examples from my own experience.

This time around, I'm getting my money's worth.

This time around, I'm actively participating in class discussions.


They say you're too soon old, and too late smart. Maybe so...

Still, after this week, I feel like I may be making up for last time, and will make the most of this academic "do-over." Being back in school is igniting some long-held dreams.

This time around, I feel like I may be able to make them happen.

Be well.

Pausing for Effect

From The Power of Pause by Terry Hershey.

A collection of thoughtful essays on how to savor life. From today's reading: A 104-year old woman was asked to name the best thing about being so old. Her reply: "No peer pressure."

I like that. My friends and I talk a lot about how we are going to lose our filter when we become women of "a certain age." Oh, the joyful freedom of saying exactly what we think, with a knowing wink and a defiant, giddy laugh. (I can't wait!)

I'm still grinning, just thinking about this.

Imagine a life without peer pressure, or the urgency to be correct or on-time or proper all the time. An interlude without the pressure to keep up with the Jones', without the incessant striving for the perfect career and family life.

Be well. (and buy this powerful book!)

Oh, This is Delicious!

I present this week's favorite equation:

aging + style

advancedstyle.blogspot.com

Be well, and for pete's sake, be fashionable!

Ducks at Graveside

I'm not sure how I fell into this role of cemetery caretaker, but nevertheless, here I am, on a blustery January evening, trying to get everything in place, before the sun sets and I have to boogie out the front gate to get out in time.

For some time now, years actually, I've been responsible for putting out flowers at our family's burial plot. Today, it was time to change out the winter flowers to something with a Valentine's theme.

Today was also the first time I saw my uncle's new headstone. I stared at it for the longest time, my eyes crinkly with tears. I miss him so much. I couldn't help but feel that his stone was not quite right, it didn't capture all he meant to this world, but then again, how would you ever fit all of what you what to say, all you want to remember, on a marble tablet? So, you drop to the ground, ignoring the red clay, and then...

Then you pause to look up at the flock of geese honking by. His favorite bird. The ones he would stand and watch out his front door, with what seemed like an almost curious reverence, as they flew overhead, over the fields, over us all.

Be well.

Catch Your Breath

It has rained here, for what seems like 40 days and 40 nights. Torrential, gusty, nothing-left-to-do but sit inside with a cup of tea, and pray for spring kind of weather.

Last weekend, though, Saturday dawned bright and warm, and I suppose it was extra-special, since it seemed so long since the sun had made an appearance this side of Graceland.

My Dad is wheel-chair bound, and he wanted to get out and enjoy the nice day, too. Helping him transfer into the motorized wheelchair, I thought it it would handle the muddy trails a little better than a regular, lighter-weight wheelchair.

I am a pollyanna-idiot.

We got stuck here.
We got stuck there.
We got stuck everywhere.

Mud caking up the sides of the tires, motor revving trying to get out of the bogs, and the sun beating down on us. This little adventure quickly sapped my enthusiasm, and it seemed we would only get a few feet along before we were again ankle deep in mud.

Pulling 300+ pounds out of the mud is not fun, and I ranted and raved quite a bit, muttering under my breath much of the time. With no help in sight, and no cell phone to call, if we were to get back home, it was up to me.

After a number of failed attempts in the deepest mud, my Dad said, "Why don't we stop for a minute, and catch our breath?"

I suddenly felt like the biggest whiner ever.

I knew he was right; how sometimes, if we just stop the frantic pushing and pulling of life, and catch our breath, we can then collect our thoughts, refocus our energy, and renew our spirit.

We eventually made it home, caked with grime and sweat, but calmer and slower, too. It was a good Saturday.

Be well.

Well Said, Mr. President

Thought for today:

"Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing." Theodore Roosevelt

Be well.

No Embargo on Miracles

Please remember miracles will continue to happen, just as certainly as the sun rises, and the days pass.

The other sure thing?

Change is unavoidable.

Change is Life. Give yourself permission to accept, and perhaps move towards welcoming, change into your world. It will open up life in dramatic ways.

Accepting change sometimes means you won't always be in control or know what's coming next.

Accepting change may mean giving up part of your comfort zone to make room for something new.

Accepting change is not easy.
It's not for wimps.
Neither is growing old.

But the alternative for both is the same.

Embrace the living you've still got left to do! That itself is the real miracle.

Be well.