My birthday

I received personally written notes yesterday from my kids for my birthday. While they said somewhat typical things that a child might say to their parent, I’ve noticed something that comes up in almost all of their letters to me…

My lack of perfection.

This years notes included:

"Of course you have flaws, but what great person doesn’t?”

“Mothers are people, and they mess up. This isn’t always a bad thing, though. Your child may learn from your mistake, and so will you.”

I don’t know if other parents receive these type of sentiments or not in an otherwise kind letter?

No major blow ups have recently occurred that I need to apologize for. Nor am I one to complain out loud about my flaws since I’ve tried to be very intentional about my self talk, for both my and my kids sake. So I don’t experience their words as attempts of revenge or out of a need to reassure me, but simply stating observations. The truth.

Even still, when I first read them, there’s a grimace like reaction that occurs in my gut. What? I’m NOT the perfect mom? Worse yet, you don’t see me as the perfect mom? 

Ouch. 

Nevertheless, as I reflect on the words they have shared with me over the years I realize that they are probably the best. gift. ever. 

Truly.

A sign that maybe I have contributed to something pretty spectacular in their lives… the effects that should not be underestimated.

The groundwork for real love has been laid. Unconditionally.

Love that isn’t about perfection and pleasing and has no fear of shame. A love that is safe. A love that has eyes that can bare seeing it all, and remain present. This is their gift to me. I believe the fact that my kids don’t feel the need to sugar coat and please me by telling me I’m perfect communicates to me that they get this, at least on some level. And as best I can tell, they are not pretending or trying to send a passive aggressive message with the revelation that I’m not faultless. 

This is a big deal because over the years I have worked with and observed clients, coworkers, neighbors, family, friends  - and myself included, who did not grasp the possibility of this kind of love. Who could not, many still cannot, believe in it’s existence. I would suggest that a majority of us don’t, or at a minimum find it extremely difficult to live a life trusting it’s existence, consistently. It’s a foreign concept in our world of judgment and scarcity beliefs. For so many of us it’s hard work to love and to be loved. 

I have seen numerous people tie their value and worth to what they can or can’t produce. I’ve witnessed people continue patterns of unsafe relationships - because that’s what they know and believe they deserve, or who simply settle because of a failure to imagine the possibilities in creating a love and life that they want. I’ve seen many fill their inability to believe in their intrinsic value and worth by overworking, drug use, sex, pornography, vanity, shopping; or curling into a depression due to the fear of what they cannot do or overcome. For all of these different struggles, it's not been their experience that an unconditional love is possible, especially in the midst of their weaknesses or mistakes and they are tired of coming up empty. So they continue to hide and pretend because in many ways, it is so much easier, albeit painful. I believe that we cannot give from what we have not experienced ourselves. 

I see my kids letters as evidence that they may struggle a bit less with this. Maybe.

Hopefully.

My best guess is they are able to observe the less than our best along with the good because I (and their dad) have had to apologize numerous times. They have an understanding for what grace looks like. I often say things like, “When I yelled at you for this, it was more about me and what I was believing and feeling at the time, than what you did. You did’t deserve to be shamed or screamed at. I want you to learn to do things because it’s the right thing to do and because you care about it. Not because you’re afraid of getting yelled at or guilted. It doesn’t mean that you’re in the clear, but please know that I wish that I had dealt with it differently. I am sorry.” 

Because of conversations like this, they know that being loved and making mistakes are tied together like constrictor knots. Love sometimes means having to say you’re sorry…

 

A LOT.

...so we can keep the line of communication open and continue to look for win-wins for all involved. 

My kids will need to experience this kind of love from others as well, not just their parents; and I know the world will fail them many times. Nevertheless, we have set the groundwork for and encouraged their belief in the possibility of what healthy love can and should feel like, reassuring them to not give up until they find and create it for themselves. 

The more we experience a safe place to see and address our faults without judgment while experiencing respect and love, the more we can grow. The more we grow, the more grace we have for others and their mistakes and the more we are freed up to give and receive love because there is no fear of judgment. Perfect love casts out fear.

It’s counterintuitive for sure, but I am glad that my kids feel safe enough to acknowledge my lack of perfection and can love me still.  Not only for what it means for me, but for them as well.

1 John 4:18 

To my distressed friends about Mizzou:

To my distressed friends over the recent resignation of Mr. Wolfe at Mizzou, my alma mater: I understand the concerns about what kinds of precedent does this set.

It is incredibly sad that a man had to lose his job over something that could have been dealt with respectfully and thoughtfully by all parties. However, I would also add: Please do not feed the fears about where this will go. I think it's important not to project our fears onto this situation and that they are actually a part of the issue the students raised. Focusing on the fears have a way of perpetuating the actual problem and skewing how we see reality and prevent the continued listening that needs to occur. 

Perhaps we can focus on the listening and the hope of a win-win situation for all?

For what it’s worth, I have agreed and disagreed with both sides on the matter and have been saddened by reactions on both sides as well.

I believe that had Mr. Wolfe truly listened from the onset and responded in a way that the students felt heard we certainly wouldn’t be where we are today as of this writing; Mr. Wolfe jobless and people fearing anarchy on the horizon. At some point it would seem that Mr. Wolfe chose not to take them seriously, or at the very least - if he took them seriously, he didn’t communicate it to them well - which he seems to admit.

And I believe it is at this juncture where people are losing focus and where our unconscious prejudice (aka habits, because it sounds less judgy) reveals itself. Many believe it is unfair that Mr. Wolfe lost his job over this. Maybe. Many are also angry at the students and the way that they have handled this situation. Justified anger? Maybe. Though, while I agree both sides erred, it was Mr. Wolfe’s job to set the tone. I can’t help but think he reaped what his tone sowed.

I also think because of the way the media has reported the Mizzou strike as essentially motivated by “2 racial slurs and a swastika”, many people believe that the hunger strike and demands were ridiculous and ‘sissy’ and the student(s) just need to “grow a pair” and learn to deal with criticism. Which is also likely true. The "they need to learn to deal with criticism" part.

...though I would also remind us that MOST of us are not well equipped to deal with criticism and are thin skinned in some form. I would also argue that any denial of this lacks self awareness on your part. (Much of why our cultures many addictions are a thing and mental health issues like depression and anxiety dominate it is because individual voices got stifled somewhere and many individuals don’t value who they are or what they have to say is ‘enough’... but I digress.)  Point is, a majority of us stink at dealing with criticism.

I believe the students could have done a much better job of documenting and communicating about the occurrences of racism and/or prejudice that they have each experienced at Mizzou. Maybe it’s because it seems so obvious to them they have the inclination to believe that it should be obvious to the rest of us? Maybe there is a document like this that I have not seen?  Maybe it really is only the 2 slurs and the swastika? Anyway, it seems ideal to me that this would have been the next phase, to produce the litany of‘ proof - for all the naysayers, and that this would have occurred prior to a hunger strike and demanding someone lose their job. Ideally this evidence would have been well communicated to the media, after ignored, if in fact the situation needed to escalate in order to be heard. It appears that some important steps may have been missed by the students.

But back to my original point to the value of listening. I can think of many issues I attempted to address poorly in my life, where I was emotional and/or didn’t compile the evidence necessary to convince the person to make the changes I had hoped or to simply acknowledge my experience. I just expected the person to believe me. Immaturity and ignorance at its best, to be sure.

And I mean that.

At. it’s. BEST.

Immaturity and Ignorance are not the enemy. Surely, we can admit, we’ve all been there. Are there?

But when it’s combined with an important matter, why do we dismiss the important matter?

The ISSUE is still a valid and concerning one? Is it not?

If your child starts responding out of anger, their grades go south, and they stop talking to friends - do you instantly jump to blaming them? When a person cries, screams, and throws a vase after revealing a long held secret that they have been sexually abused, is the healthy response to dismiss it and say “grow a pair”? My hope is you would say “no”. Do we blame them for communicating this very valid and real pain “poorly” or do we understand and trust that maybe the pain is great and that the energy needed to communicate well is not a realistic or helpful one? What if we are partly to blame for why they had this painful experience and they are having to tell it to us? Whoa. That makes it even messier and more complicated then doesn’t it? Do we start filling the room with words, run away, or be quiet and listen? Make statements or ask more questions?

The issue the students bring up is valid and concerning, no matter how imperfect/perfect the message.  

It’s not as though the student(s) was saying, “I think we should make prostitution a thing on campus. I’m going to go on a hunger strike!”

So this is where SO many of us make the mistake in our thinking, we ‘shoot the messenger’. We want to blame the one or the few people who speak it out loud or messy. We want to blame Jonathan Butler and accuse him of overreacting, being too sensitive, etc. We make the assumption that the annoying one is the ONLY one that feels this way, he’s experienced it because he is annoying, or that those who feel this way ARE THE PROBLEM and too sensitive. Most of us don’t start from the place of “Where might I be missing something?” or “Can I give them the benefit of the doubt?”  or “What might be the underlying need here that I can help with?” and it takes quite a bit of energy and a lot of work to do this frankly - so many of us don’t. (side note: I can’t believe how long it has taken me to write this whole response, yet shouldn’t be surprised?! Because it takes time and energy to think of other sides and what I might be missing, and to come up with something more thoughtful and thorough.  And still, I know that I will miss valid points to be made and can only hope that my heart will be heard over the rightness/wrongness of my words.)

I'm curious, for those who think that Mr. Butler and the like are being too sensitive, what would it take for you to believe that something should be done? What line needs to be crossed for it to be considered a worthy issue? How many people would you say have to speak up in order to give energy to the matter? What do the students need to say to convince you? Why do you need to be convinced?

In my life and as a social worker I have seen this phenomenon of blaming work itself out destructively in marriages, families, businesses, churches, prisons, politics, government, society…  Otherwise known as scapegoating - and I have YET to meet a SINGLE  person who does NOT participate in this in some form or another, and often - myself included. I am fully aware of the possibility of it AND am just as capable of participating in any given situation if I am not mindful.

Intellectually, we know NOT to shoot the messenger, nevertheless it is our habit, our bias. “They” are bringing something uncomfortable to “me” and it’s not my experience. It is our tendency to ignore, dismiss, or give minimum energy to an issue we deem as insignificant or less pressing to “me”. Based on what I’ve understood thus far, it appears this is Mr. Wolfe’s view. However, I could be wrong...

In the Mizzou incident - I mean, the black population ranks at only 7% of Mizzou. If we’re just purely thinking in numbers it could easily be justified to not put a significant amount of energy towards an issue of this size. Many would not fault an individual for doing so, if say the issue we’re about 7% of students don’t weekly shower. (I’m sure it’s much higher) And I imagine Mr. Wolfe is a numbers kind of guy, which is what has made him so successful to this point. However, could that also be a part of the issue? The fact that he is a numbers guy and yet there is only 7% black students at a state school of 30,000? And that these are human beings. Brothers and sisters. Does that speak to something in terms of numbers?

Blacks represent 11.8% of Missouri’s population, and 13.2% of the country’s. My math could be wrong, it often is - but it looks like in order for Mizzou to be representative of the states demographics they would need to add around 1440 more black students. Another statistic you may or may not be aware of, is that Missouri had a total of 11,854 black people in prison in 2012. Surely these numbers are problematic: 2,100 black students at Mizzou and 11,854 in prison? I can see someone viewing these statistics in one of two ways: “That seems about right.” or “Wow, something is off.” Maybe there is another way to view them? If you were the former, I am sad for you. Now, I know these numbers open up a another can of worms - as it should...but again, I digress and will let you sit with the numbers...

While those numbers aren’t all on Mr. Wolfe’s administration BY ANY stretch, he is “breathing the air” and is complicit by way of his lack of mindfulness around all of it. (Please, please, read this post to understand the last reference) And his response, or lack thereof, only confirmed this.

It is our nature to pay attention when it is something WE care about or someone else makes us care about it because they have more power/influence over us. Practically speaking, it makes sense that Mr. Wolfe seemed to show or communicate little concern over a 7% issue until the football team and $1 Million got involved. However, THAT is the even larger issue, isn’t it? In this day and age that there is only 7% represented at MU and there are 5x more than that in prison. Does it not suggest that maybe the state of Missouri has some unrecognized bias/prejudice/habits of their own? They are sick from the air, and don’t even realize it? Even in this article the author points out how 'diverse' the 30,000 of MU are. Just the fact that the author believes they live in a diverse community where 77% are white, points to a significant level of ignorance. While I realize people groups identified by race and ethnicity are identified as “minority” for a reason - it is also important to carefully look at what we define as diverse. Diversity defined: showing a great deal of variety; very different. 

“Great deal... Very different.” 

So, I’m not really a numbers person as I think I said before, but 77% of the group being white does not qualify. In comparison, my son currently attends a high school where 31% are black, 16% Hispanic, 3.9% Asian, 5% other, and 43% are white. Now that, to me, seems to fit the diversity bill a bit better.

It is a terrible situation all around to be sure and I believe error has occurred on all sides. Nevertheless, I believe it was the actual putting it off, not communicating what was being done to address their concerns, dismissal, or refusing to acknowledge it as a problem to begin with that only amplified the point the students were making. The actual way Mr. Wolfe didn’t respond added fuel to the fire and revealed his ignorance in such matters and is a part of the systemic problem that they are attempting to address.  

To be clear, I do not believe Mr. Wolfe is a bad guy or racist. Nevertheless, with great power comes great responsibility (yep, I went there) - and so much of that responsibility is in the LISTENING. I wish that it didn’t have to come to this. I wish that both sides had more grace and goodwill involved throughout the process. However, I strongly believe that is the leader's job to lay that groundwork, set that example, and he didn’t. A really rough way to learn a lesson, indeed.

I hope through all the noise and arguing we can see the pearl for each of us...

Stop ignoring, dismissing, or minimizing someone with a complaint.

Start listening.  

It's that simple, complicated, and hard.
…. frankly “the how” of listening - is another lengthy topic.

Culturally, and individually, we STINK at it.

Remove the plank...

A while back someone asked about why it is that my children get along so well. I was a bit taken back and didn't really have a response. She proceeded to share about her sibling and the difficulties they had through the years and only recently were healing from. Her stories reminded me of something that we had been doing, but I had not thought much about recently.

It is frowned upon in our home for either of our kids to tattle on or boss each other around when they are behaving in a way that is breaking some rule. They have been encouraged to either talk to each other directly and assertively using "I" statements and owning their feelings when in conflict, or to trust that mommy and daddy will observe the negative behavior soon enough and will deal with it as we see fit. By no means do we pull this off perfectly, but they get the gist and are pretty easily correctible when they try to gossip or step in above their pay grade.

I can't take a whole lot of credit for this. I think I came across an article years ago and thought it made good sense. The bottom line is siblings need each other and the peer relationship needs to be protected. If you allow them 'adult' like responsibilities (even if what they are saying is true and good) it changes the relationship dynamic. Because of the ego, it seems to instantly disconnect them and cause fear, distrust, or at minimum a breakdown in communication, further judgement, shame ...and the list can go on and on.

Is this what God wanted from us in the beginning? Could part of the avoid eating from the tree of knowledge (of good/evil) thing be so as not to cause such disconnection with our fellow humans? Was that His way of saying, "I got this. This is not part of your job. Trust Me."?

Far too long...

Oy. It's been too long since I last wrote here. So much has transpired...yet maybe not so much has changed.

However, we may be moving soon. My husband is in the final stage and waiting to hear back about a job in Chicago and flies out Monday for a third interview at another place in Atlanta. This two month process has been nerve wracking, to say the least, and absolutely nothing has happened...at least on my end. I'm not the one having to apply, prepare, and interview while holding down a full time job. By the way, much kudos goes to my husband for maintaining his sanity and remaining his calm, funny, and reliable self during all of this. Though I know it is taking it's toll on him as well.

This waiting, the in between or liminal space, is interesting. It is one of suspension. My brain wants to rationalize and suggest that in this latency I should feel free and buoyant.

La. Di. freaking Da.

Guess what, I don't.

I feel frozen and heavy.

That seems contradictory that I should feel heavy when I'm suspended? All movements feel extremely labored and half committed, like a third of a lunge. It seems like all daily decisions now run through the filter of this ambiguous future. How to answer what the kids will be doing this summer? Why clean that now, when we may have to do it all at once to sell the house? Will this be the last time I see them? Can we commit to this? Oh, and all the strolls down memory lane I've recently taken...

Yet I haven't left, and may not.

Are we staying? Going? Who will I miss? How will the kids adjust? What will I do for a job? What should we sell? Keep? Who will miss us? Can we afford this? Can we not? I imagine my little family in a scene from the Matrix, dressed in black of course, suspended...but we're not dodging anything. At least not yet. We're just suspended, looking around and it's... exHAUSting?

I am assuming that the tension and energy spent is because I am trying to live in the future. My gaze is fixed WAY out in front and all I see is good ole London fog. No amount of effort or squinting helps me to see through the vapor. For now, I'm going to work on putting one foot in from of the other and watching said feet... the haze can't last forever, can it?

Lordy, Lordy...

Guess I'm 40.

This week has been a bit of a roller coaster emotionally, and I'm finally sitting down to reflect on my birthday that occurred on Wednesday.  I received so many kind words through notes, texts, phone calls, and thoughtful gifts - from long ago friends to current ones, and several in between.  I've only had time to read them once, but hope to many more and try to allow them to soak in.  I am afraid I am not able to thank everyone individually at this time, but please know that I SO needed it and am appreciative of the time and energy that people took to think of me.  Indeed, I could use that more often - as I imagine we all could.  It's like a shot of adrenaline.  One I hope to pay back to many of you in time.

Truth be told - I haven't exactly been excited about the age change and been very aware of my mortality as of late.  Don't worry, I'm not going to go there in this post and my health is good (at least that I am aware of).  Suffice it to say, I don't want to let go of my 30's.  They were good to me.

I am so grateful for the first 40 years and am doing my best to not take it for granted.  There are many that don't make it this far...  Nevertheless, strangely, I feel like I am just getting started in this life.  Truly.  The kids are at such a great age.  We just went for a 10 mile bike ride with nary a complaint or skinned knee.  This morning the family all contributed to household chores and three of us (minus Selah) are currently enjoying a James Bond movie.  Jason and I are relishing our 16th year of marriage and have so much more to go!   I truly enjoy him and wouldn't want anyone else by my side.  And on Wednesday, we had a mentor orientation for N2LIFE where we had more potential volunteers show up than expected (double).  How great is that!?!  Just writing these things down and in public causes me to fear I may be sabotaging myself.

My life is good.  Really.  There are certainly struggles, adjusted plans, etc.  Yet, there is so much to look forward to (God willing - family vacations, sharing our love of X-files & Smallville, dating, graduations, marriage, grandchildren, etc) as well as some difficult stuff that may be approaching.

All this to say, my hope for my 40's is to be present.  In the here and now.  I hope to not let the fear of joy rob me of all I have to celebrate or to get so busy that I disengage from the things that make my heart beat.  I am so thankful for my red headed posse, the hard work that I've chosen, and all of the people (friend and foe) that led me to these great places.

Nevertheless, in the spirit of now, I have to go to the bathroom and then plan some parties.  :)

Thank you again friends, for making my birthday so special.

15 to life

My husband and I just celebrated our 15 year wedding anniversary. In this day and age, I consider that a big deal and I feel like celebrating and sharing that with others today. By God's grace, we have survived and thrived through what many marriages have not. I wrote him a poem, albeit corny, filled with things only he and I really understand, but I thought I would share in the hope of hopes - that others be encouraged and know it's possible to be in this place 15 years after the ceremony.

We got this. We own it.
It's still you and me at 15... and I believe the best is yet to be, babe
Cause we're on a roll of lovin' and laughin', hangin' and playin', dancin' and creating...
You're my coffee fiend, spider-lovin, quipin' machine and decoder
You're my salsa and rhythm composer...adding spice and tempo to my willful

To this ragamuffin, Barnabus has nothing on you
My legionnaire, my iron, and my cheesy fondue
You are my triple threat: a walking dictionary, thesaurus, and editor
Without you, I would have little to say
Less learned, and no filter.

We've biked, hiked, camped, and climbed
Jogged, strolled, lingered, and loitered
Outstaying X-files, Smallville, and Boston Legal
Grooving on Cranberries, OTR, Denison, & VOL,
Sting, Peter, Brooke, and The National
...to name a few

Been almost busted, sidetracked, and bankrupt
Beheld copious births and bereavements, and worshipped
Amid learning to engage, empathize, embrace, brainstorm, bargain, swap, and boost up
While tangled with hormones, diet, and haircuts

We've traveled to Africa, Netherlands, Arkansas, California,
Colorado, Florida, Oklahoma, Gehenna...and back
Illinois, Tennessee, Texas, Carolina's all on this fast track.
I have journeyed 15+ years behind, in front of, and beside you

I have loved you. I have liked you. I am loving and liking you more, still...

So...
We got this. We own it.
It's still you and me at 15... and I believe the best is yet to be, babe
Cause we're on a roll of lovin' and laughin', hangin' and playin', dancin' and creating...

Unstitched

The seams of my brain are coming apart stitch by stitch.
I'm a cliche and am disintegrating into the mist.
I believe I have held too loosely to things, and the little I had is drifting.
Drifting to God know's where...the land of the pathetic I suppose.

I fear I have been lost in myself for years.
Where I once saw a line in the sand, I now see only erosion.
Where I once could declare who I was, I somehow seem to know less or
...care less.
I am bored with myself, my aches, my thoughts.
In these present moments I see only comparison and envy, and all the qualities that I don't possess.

I've been here before, and have come back bedecked and bedazzled-
what now seems like a past reincarnated and lovely self...
Shouldn't I be farther in this life by now?
I'm supposing the Maker needs to rip and frazzle for a reason.
I'm surprised by how much I've seen of him lately and I wait in suspicion of his workings.
My ability to trust has been shaken again, because I have been shaken.
I feel as though I have no beginning or end.
I am a vague mess, at best conspicuous
at worst ...invisible.

Broken?

Over the last week I have heard two different men say, "Everyone knows they are broken." I did not prompt this response, they just came up in the context of what was being discussed. And it's been nagging at me...really? Maybe I am off or maybe my definition of "knowing ones self as broken" looks very different from theirs. I'm still trying to figure it out at the moment and don't have the energy to do so just yet. But I would like to hear your thoughts, definition, etc. Got any?

My daughter told me a boy told her friend that she smells.
She told him "That's not very nice." He replied, "Why are you always so kind?"
In the moment I was proud of her for attempting to protect her friend, confront the wrong, and speak her mind.
However, I was also taken back by the boys choice of words...kind.
He didn't say "nice"...and I am grateful.

Nice announces to me "successful" socialization, an appeasing others attitude, with a shallow and spineless understanding of any truth; to put it frankly, a cowardliness. There is death in it.

Kind declares to me, thoughtful, helpful, merciful, honest, and alive with grace. It rings like a bell in my ears that maybe my daughter gets something, that so many us don't or have lost. Kindness speaks as an expression of the tension between the truth and tenderness. It acknowledges the broken and still see's the beauty. It's the harder higher road.

And it's lovely, especially on her...

So I was inspired by this...and I thought that I would try my hand at
"What I know". Though I am not ready to do the "spoken" piece just yet...

I fear death. I fear explosions. I fear that I will be evaluated and determined to have had no value.

I fear expectations placed on me, of being misunderstood. I fear seeing pain in my children and husband's eyes.

I hate death.

I hate war and I hate lies... because death is imminent.

I dislike interruptions, injustice, intolerance, ignorance, arrogance, extravagance, vengeance, substance...abuse.

After many years of drought, I finally enjoy a good cry.

I am fascinated by the physics of people: their choices and others response to their choices.

I often choose transparency, even when it throws you for a loop.

I choose cheese. I choose bacon. These items together makes any food edible.

I choose design. I choose order. These two things makes any space palatable.

I enjoy good writing, despite my own inadequacies. I enjoy a good conversation, despite your inadequacies.

I delight in pop-ups and puppets, kittens and kites, bubbles and Brooke (Waggoner), ranunculus and calculus (nah).

I covet those who can pull off a good prank, have a sixth sense for being "present", and has the constant and consistent energy of the Tortoise.

I experience a sense of peace when I take in the glow of a tree after a rain, sit at a creek, sleep in...

My heart skips a beat, two and three for my red headed trio. My brain turns to mush over the concept of Grace.

I am unfortunately more aware of my stomach's presence than ever. My feet believe they have so much more to do.

This is me for now and has been, but I reserve the right to change for later or sooner.

So, what do you know?

PleaseConvinceMe Blog: Can We Sin in Heaven?

Thought this was an interesting post and wanted to share.

PleaseConvinceMe Blog: Can We Sin in Heaven?

Comparison is the thief of Joy

Comparison is the thief of Joy - Dwight Edwards...

I feel as though I could sit and think about this quote for days, maybe weeks, and ponder the myriad of ways this holds true. All it takes is looking at my 'closet' (hole in the wall really), turning on the television, listening to Pandora, looking at Facebook, or walking out the door and I can subtly find myself discontent...or grandly. I hate admitting this. Really I do because it reveals that I am in a weak place. I used to think I was better than this. Actually, I think I was - at least in a better place. It was during a time that Grace rang loudly in my ears. As time and flesh would have it, they seemed to have become deafened, or at least desensitized.

But before you think I am poo-pooing all of these methods of communications and self expression, please know that I am not. I don't believe that it's inherently bad, quite the opposite actually...just that it has the power to amplify wounds already within us and, well, steal our joy in a way that we may not be paying attention. I for one, am becoming increasingly aware of it again and am trying to figure out my place as it relates to technology. Which is partly why I've not posted much lately.

In particular, I am curious of the present and future research on the effects of Facebook, blogs, and twitter, etc in this idea of comparison and thievery. Oh my goodness! Even as I type this I find myself robotically checking FB status updates. *hand slap* Seriously. I can do this without realizing it and without realizing its effects on my spirit. How do you feel when you get off FB or after reading a blog? Do you feel connected? Uplifted? Encouraged or inspired? Known? I can feel these things but I can also feel like a voyeur of sorts. Generally, but not always, I'm seeing the 'good' stuff... or what seems good to me, or what that person believes to be their good stuff. I'm often left wanting what they have in some way... Am I the only one? Or am I reading the wrong stuff maybe?

No, really with FB, tweets, blogs, etc people have created their own personal 'spin' on their life. For the most part it is a micro form of marketing, is it not? It is in large part how the Kardashian's can make $65 million in a year in our society. We're so curious, we want to figure out how we measure up. At least to those we care about, by those we give power to as people of influence in our life. In the name of connectedness, information, and aspiration are we really hurting ourself somehow by following? These days people are able to gain power and influence... and at alarming speed, whether they deserve it or not and whether they want it or not. And, quite simply, some of us are better at it than others.

I'm not knocking it though. I covet it really. That's kind of my whole point. I want what they have; to be heard, but I struggle to believe myself worthy. Now this is terribly embarrassing to admit, because it feels weak - but it's my truth. What's lying underneath this is that I want to be known and validated. I do not believe that this is a bad thing to desire. I believe that this is a God given void, and ultimately God filled. Yet being followed by mere mortals in some way seems evidence of validation. Look how many "likes" they got. I believe this is ultimately not truth, but this is where my struggle lies. There is the tension with this newfound technology between my spirit and flesh. And dare I say that I do not think I'm alone?

Following others status or blogs is just another new way for me, and I'm guessing others, to feel inadequate. I find myself reading others stati? status? statuses? and blogs and measuring. And then when I attempt to write my own...oh MY, the insecurities and feelings that rise up and choke the voice (voice = joy) out of me. So I don't, for fear that they are incomplete, are not clever or flattering, or have been or will be said better by someone else. These are the messages I send myself, often unbeknownst to me. It is quite the feat just to hit "publish post" and pray I spelled everything correctly....like feat. Let alone maintain my authentic voice, my truest self as I know myself to be in this moment. But like everyone else, I am on a journey. I can only do my part in expressing myself as I am presently, with both known and unknown shortcomings included. As I do so in this way, I can only hope that I am not causing anyone else to inappropriately feel discontent, while embracing my own joy. I am not worthy of anyone's covet, and on my better days I do not wish those feelings upon anyone. At my core, my sincere ache is to walk side by side, hand in hand, voice with voice, and ear to ear "as is" on this journey with you.

Sidenote...If I'm going to continue this, I am going to have to work on brevity. (:

Son of Laughter

Currently, I am reading this. I don't remember why I checked it out. I know that I was browsing online at the Library for parenting books, yet I can't remember how I found this particular book. I would certainly not want to emulate much of the parenting skills found here.... Anyway, it called to me in some way. Maybe because it 's authored by Buechner, of whom I would like to believe is a close friend though we've never met. Maybe it was because my son's middle name is "Laughter" aka, Isaac, which is who the title is referring. I am not sure. But what I do know, is being half way into it I am loving it. It makes me uncomfortable, it is thoughtful and though provoking. It is providing skin and guts to a biblical narrative I've heard numerous times and it's as though it's through the eyes of Jacob. Fascinating.

BP

I have tried not to pay too much attention to the BP oil crisis, it overwhelms me. I have seen pictures and the occasional news report but I don't stay and linger long. It makes me kinda queasy... All I can do is keep coming back to the same question, "How can something like this happen?". In this day and age, when we have technology that allows us to watch a movie on our phone, when I can educate myself at the push of a button and within seconds have access to multiple resources, or when we can view our babies in 3 dimensions and have an operation while still in the womb, how can something like this happen? As I know you know, this list could go on and on. Technology is amazing...however it is still invented, manufactured, and sold for our convenience and for a profit. Large sums of money are not spent on 'just in case' or 'if all else should fail'. I do understand the bottom line. But what about doing it, just because it's the right thing to do? Even if it's costly?

In BP's case, before things were ever built, a solution and several backup plans should have already been in place, right? Maybe they had some, and they just backfired? I don't know... I'm sure there are things that I can't understand. But it seems like such a lack of foresight and possible integrity are involved. Are there not intelligent individuals that could have foreseen such a tragedy?

Not that long ago I watched a documentary on the Apollo flight to the moon, and was amazed and impressed at the amount of thinking, planning, integrity, and ingenuity that went into the preparation and the flight itself - which is ultimately what saved the astronauts lives. In the case of the BP spill, who was the person, or persons, that new this could be a potential problem, but either said nothing, or brushed it under the rug? Was the expense of the back up plans too much? And if so, did anyone stand up and say, "Well then, maybe we should not proceed???" Eleven human lives were lost, along with wildlife and livelihoods - life... gone. Just like that.

I am not usually one to get all wrapped up in preventative plans, or blaming people for unforeseen consequences. I sincerely believe that this way of thinking can create a crippling attitude of fear. However, it seems that even my small brain knows that water and oil don't mix... I'd like to think that I would have suggested, "We should not proceed..." Possibly I am thinking too highly of myself.

I am trying to have grace for the BP CEO and leadership. It seems I can be merciful and forgiving to a gossip, an addict, a prostitute, murderer, adulterer, lier, and cheat even if these things were done to me (in due time) ...but, for some reason when it involves a corporation or systemic wrongdoing - I truly struggle with extending any type of forgiveness. I understand, know first-hand how broken we all are. Yet for some reason when it, or 'we', become a company, a regime, a kingdom - I find this type of brokenness - greed, pride, and silence much more difficult to forgive. Maybe it's because a system looses it's 'face' and it's just too overwhelming; the intimacy of dealing with an individual is lost, because too many are involved? Maybe it's just the idea of misused power that affects me so, and it just messes with my sense of balance - of which I have a very high value. But of course grace isn't offered to equal the offense...at least not as Jesus gives it. It surpasses it. Grace does not equal balance. Does anyone else struggle in this way?

At this point, I think I have gotten to a place where I do not wish ill will towards BP and it's leadership. I don't wish for anyone to boycott, at least not yet. Essentially that hurts people not responsible for this and would potentially re-vicimtize the people that BP has already hurt. All I know for now is that I do hope that once the deluge of oil has been halted; that the truth will be revealed, appropriate accountability and consequences will be dealt, and fair restitution is given... and on an intimate level we will all see our own brokenness amidst this mess, be humbled, and learn something from it.

LOST

So, it's been a while.... since I've blogged and since the LOST Series Finale aired. It hasn't taken me that long to digest the ending, just that long to be motivated to devote energy to it. Needless to say, I was disappointed and I am ready to admit it. I've come no further than I did within days of viewing it and I refuse to watch it again. I've read a few reviews, but have mostly kept to myself about it. Apparently, much to my chagrin, I'm not one of those unruffled non-chalant people that can say "I don't need it to be resolved" - because, sigh..., I do. And the response "it's all about the characters, their growth and connections" is hogwash - for me anyway. I love a well developed character/ensemble as much as the next literary snob, but I am not convinced LOST accomplished this. I found the ending to be over-simplistic and cliche, and down-right sappy. And I usually love sappy!! I will not deny that I got teary when Sawyer and Juliet 'found' each other again, as well as some of the other reunion moments. I did. However, I am the tin-man and scarecrow combined. I have a heart and a brain that enjoys being used. And it enjoys watching creative types use theirs.

Maybe my brain is just too small. Or, my synapses never developed the neurological path that allows me to appreciate the story as intended. I am at a loss to see any genius or brilliance... other than I took the bait. I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. Congratulations on that, Adam and Eddy. I believed there was a purpose since I was told it had an "end". I believed there was going to be a "Sixth Sense" kind of moment at the end that would create this audible gasp around the world that I wanted to be a part of and it would make me want to watch the whole series again. Yet,...I liken the LOST fiasco to a lengthy relationship with a lot of hinting, flirting and teasing, all suggesting that there is something fan-TAS-tic behind the mystery, and then when you finally go on a date...nothin'. Fizizzle.

It seems as though the writers were like a couple of pre-teens that wanted to write a 'story', if you can call it that, that would include anything and everything their little brains could muster into it. It began with a crash, developed multiple characters with backstories, tossed in several random sci-fi elements with a dash of turns and kinks, black smoke, and a polar bear. But an ending? Ummmm.....

Well, anybody can do that. No, really. It's as if LOST was just this long conversation of "what if" stories that I often hear my 9 year old son and his friends pitch. They go back and forth with scenarios, trying to out-imagine each other, but as they attempt to finish them they have great difficulty making them satisfactorily plausible or they simply can't, and they move on to the next "what if?". But, even nine-year olds realize when it's going no-where, gets bored, and move on to their legos. Sure it was fun to imagine. To entertain some possibilities and to have the conversation can be dreamy. But to invest time, spend money on, draw millions into it, and market it as something other than it is? Well, I kinda feel exploited. ...Ok, maybe that's a bit dramatic, but you get the idea right? My conclusion is either they didn't have what it took to pull off a true ending and copped out, or it was all one big fat JOKE and they never intended to have an ending. Maybe it was just one big social experiment to see how long we would watch?

Again, I'd like to think that I don't need everything answered. I'm actually pretty sure that I don't. Geez, though, I need a context to let it all fall under so I can draw my own conclusions. I don't even believe I got that - other than they were on an island, oh and there were people and a plane. At what point they were living or deceased is in question - but yes, there were people there nonetheless, an island and a plane. Yep, of this I am sure. Ta-da! That's as far as I've gotten... seriously. Everything else is up for grabs.

Each time I attempt to answer one question, it causes everything else to change - and it's overwhelming. It's a jigsaw puzzle with 1000 pieces and 70% of the pieces are in my possession and 1/3 are connecting somewhere. 1/3 of the others don't seem to go anywhere. The ones that are connecting to another are intermittent. Some pieces can connect to multiple pieces, but not all of them at the same time. A majority of the edge pieces are completely missing, and there is no picture on the box to refer to. To top it off, I'm pretty sure there are additional puzzles mixed in. Sound impossible? Indeed.

Adam and Eddy, I didn't watch this show so I could go write my own. I watched it because I thought someone smarter than me was going to be able to make chaos, seemingly, make some sense in a magical way. I don't want to have to go back and re-watch the entire series to make sense of it. I don't believe it's possible here. I've already given you enough of my life. If you had done your job - I should have at least understood enough that I would want to go back and re-watch it. But I don't... so I won't. I will forever remain ______.

Nitpick

So, I am sitting here typing with mayo on my hair and a shower cap over my head. Can you gues why? If you guessed, then I would assume that you have encountered the adventures of nit-picking, a.k.a. lice. Ugh.

We've done the generic verision of rid a couple of days ago. Now we are trying mayo - which it sounds like we should've just started with. Washed many an item (and will continue to), vacumed some of the funiture, put animals and all princess clothing in bags in the basement.

I soooooo get where "nitpick" was born.

Teeter-totter

I'd like to think of myself as balanced. Much of my efforts and energies are spent on attempting balance in my life. I have spoken proudly of it to others, possibly even arrogantly... However, most recently I am beginning to question the consequences of this type of living. Am I missing out? Have I inadvertantly deadened myself? Am I living to the fullest? What is "fullest" anyway? How is that determined?

I have begun to question this because I am in a desert of sorts, a mid-life crisis at the age of 36. Nothing particularly exciting is occuring presently. No adventure for myself that I can forsee on my horizon. The sun actually seems to be setting, my brain hardening. Did I mention I am 36? When I think back to the times that were exciting and fun, when I felt alive - there were risks involved. Some were not even "good" times - but I felt alive and life was, well... UN-balanced. There was a crisis, or a catalyst that forced change, movement...something. There was also something to move towards. As I write this I fear some terrible event blindsiding me or someone in my family, and I will wish that I never even thought such things, let alone typed them out. However, I know that I do not long for pain...but growth. I crave movement. I imagine my life as a teeter-totter working so hard to stay level and just letting go to see where it takes me. Except I can't find the handle bars to know where to put my feet up... and I fear the obvious - hitting bottom.

To be seen

I have been staying up late, lately. I continue to do so in a rebellious manner - because I can, and because I am drawn. Embarrassing as it may be for me to admit, I am becoming a late night junkie and flipping like a madwoman back and forth between the talk and entertainment 'news' shows. For what it's worth, I choose Jimmy Fallon over them all. However, I watch just as much for the guests. Who will be the most intelligent, clever, and charming this evening? Who will have that delicate balance between a contrite, humorous, and intelligent response? Who would I hit it off with if sitting next to them on my flight from Saskatchewan to New Zealand?

Here are a few of my observations of why I think I watch the way that I do, and maybe you do to:

They get to dress up, look like 'somebody'. They often have someone, if not some-two or some-three, assisting them with this 'effortless' look. I am a wife and mother of two. My husband is a research librarian and myself a social worker. My opportunities to dress up are minimal. Librarians and social workers aren't exactly known for their fancy dressing and extravagant parties.

Celebrities on talk shows get to make an entrance. All eyes on them as they strut, wave, drift, dance, sashay, dart, meander in and shake hands or embrace. They aren't, in that moment, fighting for anyone's attention - they are automatically given it. They are not waiting for their turn to be noticed in the room. They aren't alone in commanding it. Someone else has commanded it, or prepared the way, for them. Even better! Music, catered to them in some way, carrying them as they go. As I walk in a room there is seldom music, and if so, it was not 'meant' for me. In public, a head may turn but then I think maybe it's because I am staring back, awkwardly, and that is why their gaze lingered.

Celebrities get asked questions. In a span of several minutes they may be asked 5-20 questions about themselves, their lives, likes, dislikes, work, relationship or lack there of, their thoughts (or lack there of), hobbies, mistakes, children, spirituality, politics and philosophy, their food tastes and shoe size... All of this, with little interruption and full attention from others. Generally the only interruption is for the host to ask ANOTHER question?! Albeit, most of these questions are ones that the celebrity has requested be asked of them. But how AWEsome is THAT??? Seriously?! They have our full attention, questions they want to answer, with little-to-no disruption. They get to come off looking charming, sincere, clever, intelligent, self-deprecating, lovely, and just short of a super hero - all in the short span of 5-10 minutes.

If I am not the one asking the questions...I'm lucky if I get 5 'adult' questions asked of me in a day. I get many questions, but they range from, "Can I have an icee?" "Will you buy me one of these?", "Can I call 'Billy' so we can meet up to play Club Penguin on line?", "Do you like my drawing?". The actual garden variety adult questions that I get asked are, "How are you?" "How are the kids?" and "How can I get help paying my rent?" "How do I apply for Medicaid?", "Can I get a bus pass?" to “Do you want cheese with that?” “Cash back?”.

And finally, there is complete understanding that the conversation is all about the celebrity. The host is just there to facilitate. There is no expectation for them to ask a question back to the host?! Nothing prevents them from doing so, however; they just generally don't.

My conversations, my day, is nothing but interruptions. Whether it be a child, a pager, a phone call, a FB chat person who interrupts the flow of my status updates review, or me having sparked someone else's need to talk. It often feels as if I don't get to share anything of meaning about myself. And if I began to share with someone, I seldom get to complete what I was saying because little 'Johnny' just came and asked his mommy to come wipe his bottom.

So I continue to watch, to wish I could be that celebrity... all the while knowing that I am seeing them at THEIR best, wishing it could be my best that someone was seeing. Wishing I had someone to give me style, a band rocking it out as I entered the room, and undivided attention. I dream of what it might be like for my audience to be in a good mood, interested and tuned in; the opportunity for me to be at my best and everyone watching. Me getting to talk about what I want to talk about, no interruptions... therefore I have begun a blog. Maybe to an audience of one, but a girl can dream.