The proposal.

There is no doubt about the beauty and romance of seeing two people meet at a designated place and time, to make a promise to love, honor, and cherish each other until death parts them. Weddings are romantic. They are beautiful. They are a precious time. Our wedding was something I will always remember, and I can say without a doubt that our guests will remember it, too. For lots of reasons. Fortunately. I guess. But November 9, 1996, is when John and I, privately, made the conscious choice: yes, let’s DO this. Together.

That was thirteen years ago. If you need a visual reference for how long ago that was, let me show you.

Notice how dark John’s moustache was. And notice how young my eyes and skin look. We had no idea then what twists and turns life was going to hand us. But for me, there was this: absolute, complete certainty that this man–whom I was madly in love with, who was my very best friend in the world, whom I trusted with everything–he was the only person I wanted to stand beside forever.

Sure we’ve had some unexpected twists and turns, but when I look at him sitting across the room from me with one of our daughters curled into his side, I realize that I have about a million more reasons to be madly in love with him; that after a day or a night spent apart, I yearn for him just as much as when our lives required miles of distance between us; that the depth of his love is one thing, but it is often his devotion to our friendship that keeps the spark alive; that I have trusted him with everything, and he has never let me down.

What can I say to that? Other than thank you, my dear, sweet, precious man. But specifically, on this day, thank you for asking.

All in All

For the past year song called “All in All” has been getting a lot of playtime on my ipod because it makes me feel okay to just stand still. Even though it’s a song about time moving too slowly, and for me time is going much too quickly, the whole song feels like my inner dialogue for 2009. About ten months ago, I pretty much just emotionally crashed. I intensely doubted myself, my direction, my abilities, my worth. I had become a jumble of raw nerves, and soul-crushing fear, and constant constant worry. I was certain that I was going to fail, that I was failing. I felt inadquate to do anything at all. I thought about running away. I would never run away, but in my darkest moments, all I wanted was to escape. Not from my family, not from my children, but from that It All that I had created for myself.

And this song… this song was the only catalyst I could find. I still have a hard time articulating the depths I felt then, and I still have a hard time explaining what it was about this song at that time. All I can say is as soon as the strains of that music and  slightly haunting, echoing voice filled my ears, I could physically feel a small, tiny release. It was like someone took a single thread of that huge knot I had become, and just slowly and gently began to pull until eventually the knot began to loosen.

The line that most resonates with me is “I am only just as much as I can make myself.”  I didn’t realize until this year just how profoundly I fear failure. Just how much I worry about not living up to others’ expectations. But this line reminds me that I don’t have to be anything more than who I am. I can stand still and let the “water turn the mill.” I don’t have to make anything happen. I can’t even begin to express what a relief it was, and continues to be, to hear that beautifully expressed.

I am only just as much as I can make myself.

My life has been so full of ought to’s, need to’s, should haves, could haves; do do do, be be be, move move move.

I am only just as much as I can make myself.

I’ve spent so much time running around trying to be everything and nothing ever really moves at all. I am beginning to see that when I stand still and let the wind or the water or the fire rush over me, what remains is what I’ve been chasing all along. But I have to be willing to stand still, and hold on. I can wait.

age IS TOO a number… just not the one you think.

So, if you’re my friend on Facebook, I’ve already delved into that topic there, but this is the first blog-worthy thing I’ve thought of in a month so some of you get to read it twice…

So evidently I am old.

How do I know this? Easy.

I am driving home after an evening meeting at school, and it is quite dark. (Side note: One of the ways in which one knows that one is becoming more “domestic” is the frequency one drives in the dark dark. When you have young children, and those children like to be home at bedtime, one tends to be home at night 99.9% of the time.) So, with the recent “fall back” time change, it occurred to me that I haven’t driven much beyond the limit of my hometown after dark in quite some time because it felt weird to be on the interstate at night.

But how does this make me old? Well… I’m driving down the interstate, rocking out to “The Pina Colada Song” by Rupert Holmes and I suddenly realize, “Hey, I’m driving pretty fast. I better slow down before I get pulled over.” So I look down to check my speed and the spedomoter read….

sixty-seven. miles. per. hour.

Are you FREAKING kidding me????

67 miles per hour feels too fast? What has happened to me?

Evidently I need to get my night vision checked because  I sure don’t want to get rear-ended by some septuagenarian whippersnapper going a speedy 65 mph some day.

geez.

In search of my people (revised as of 10:43 a.m.)

(Note: This post has been through multiple drafts before and after it’s first posting in the wee hours of 10/12/09. I feel like I’m really out on a limb finally putting this out here. It’s scary.)

I have tried not to write about politics on my blog. And I’m still not even sure I want to now.  I am 34 years old, and I’m not even sure where I land on the political spectrum. I find myself in this awkward in-between stage on almost every single issue. I’m even stuck in a weird place in terms of how important politics are to me. On the one hand, I care very much about the issues. On the other hand, I resist getting too wrapped up in it because it can seriously erode my peace of mind. I have to disconnect it out of self-preservation sometimes.

I have no clear political philosophy. No camp in which I hang my hat. No group with which I most identify. No real way to even articulate what my politics are other than to say that my guiding principle, when trying to come to any kind of conclusion about the world around me, is to have compassion for others and to watch out for the “little guy.”  I don’t know if that makes me blue or red, a donkey or an elephant, one of us or one of them. The truth is: I don’t know. And I wouldn’t care, except that it feels like it’s not okay with a lot of people.

I think it is relevant to say, in the interest of being as honest as possible, that most of my current political persuasions is more of a shying away from certain aspects of one side rather than a full embrace of the other, if that makes any sense. To me, that distinction makes a huge difference, but unfortunately it seems that in order to be in either camp, you have to agree with, and be willing to defend, everything the party does.  I’m sorry, but no can do on that one. I will admit my bias: I was no fan of the George W. Bush administration. I am more than thankful that he went after Bin Laden.  But this “you’re either for us or against us,” bull in a china shop method of (non) diplomacy stopped being appropriate, in my humble opinion, about 1 year after 9/11. Yet, it drug out for seven more years.  I was not a fan. Yes, there is a time to make it clear that you’re not going to allow someone to kick you around, but I do not think that it is an appropriate way to govern.

The whole point was to make us safer. Are we safer? Perhaps. I don’t know. I’ll tell you this though: the idea that somebody would put a facebook poll asking whether or not the President should be assassinated scares me a heck of a lot more than terrorists do. The vitriolic tone of the political discourse in this country erodes my peace of mind much more than any foreign threat does. The hatred that chills me to the core is right here among us.  There are some who would have us believe that our neighbors, our friends, or perhaps even our own parents, siblings or children are evil, are baby-killers, are broken, are war mongers, are racist, are crazy because they are republican or because they are democrat, because they are pro-life or because they are pro-abortion, because they are homosexual, because they are pro-second amendment, because they pro-death penalty, because they believe in civil unions… and the list goes on and on.

How can anybody feel safe, really truly safe, in a climate such as this? I don’t feel safe posting this up on my own blog, because I fear judgment by the people who know me and love me. Because the climate of discourse here says I have to think one side is horrible, evil, and wrong, lest I be a horrible and evil person myself. Why do we listen to the people who perpetuate this kind of thinking?

I’ve been saying for years that perhaps the number one problem with the political climate today is the way politics is presented and reported. And I’m not talking about the “liberal media” either.  There is plenty of biased reporting going on for both sides. The cable news networks are little more than popsicle stands with tailor-made programming to appeal to their viewers’ preferences. Here’s your blue raspberry sno-cone (she shoots animals from helicopters!). Here’s your red cherry pop (he’s not even an American!). Increasingly, the programming is not even about their viewers’ preferences, but rather their neuroses. And you know what? We eat that crap up every. single. time. It drips and spills all over our lawns and sidewalks; we drip it all over the common spaces we share with others, and it makes everything sticky, and gross, and ugly, and all the dirt we kick up over the stuff that should matter the least just sticks all over everything and makes us all look filthy.

My strongest distaste is for those who command so much attention, and make a heck of a lot of money, by making people feel afraid. I don’t want to listen to anybody who clearly hates the other side or who is an alarmist.  I don’t want to listen to anybody who encourages me to assume the worst about people who do not see things the same way as I see them.  And I just can’t understand for the life of me why so many people, truly good people, would listen to such hateful people say detestable things.  It makes me very sad that I cannot simply say the following without real fear of harsh judgment:

I believe that health care reform is a good idea because I believe that EVERYONE should have access to good health care. I do not think that the government needs to be INVOLVED in my health care decisions,  just as I do not think that some cost-benefit analyst at some HMO should INVOLVED in my health care decisions as they are under the current system. The idea that the patient has some kind of ultimate control over their own treatment is an illusion. So rather than scaring me into thinking I’m about to lose something that I actually don’t have, why don’t both sides right that wrong? Clearly both sides know that patients and doctors should be the ones to decide because that is the carrot they are dangling above our heads… so let us fix the system so that it really does work that way, shall we?  I would be grateful if the government could ensure that if I lost my job, or my husband lost his, that my kids, my spouse, and I could still get good health care. If the government plans to systematically shut down all health insurance companies by penalizing them into closing, as I have heard some conservatives say it will do, then that is wrong. I have no idea WHAT is going to happen, but I am willing to bet that the high-paying insurance executives will walk away with a sickening amount of money before they allow themselves to go bankrupt. The current system is hardly honorable. Just as there are horror stories about what WILL happen if health care is reformed, there are horror stories about what DOES happen with the current system.

The bottom line is: there are sick kids, poor people, and hard working folks who are out of work  and who don’t have health care and desperately need it. That should be fixed. I don’t care if the person who does it is blue or red, republican or democrat, or whatever. It just needs to be done. Anybody who doesn’t agree with that basic principle may cause me to wonder about their compassion for others; it depends upon their reasons for opposing it. But I will resist jumping to a conclusion, and I certainly won’t call them evil. I will give them the benefit of the doubt that they are concerned with how the financial implications of reform may affect the coverage of millions of people…. just as I am concerned about the non-coverage of millions of others. Yet, there are those on both sides that will say that the other is evil. There are some who try to alarm people that such a positive change is the downfall of democracy.

There are some who would say that I am naive at best or anti-American because I said this would be a positive change. Honestly, that fills me with a cloud of sadness and anxiety that has been with me for years. Particularly because some of my nearest and dearest friends and  family listen to those who would label me as such. I cannot but help to take it a little personally, because their opinions of me matter deeply to me. It feels similar to when you knew somebody was talking trash about you in school, and even though it wasn’t true, your friends did not speak up and defend you. I just don’t understand how something that, to me, is so clearly hate-filled and divisive can be seen as right and appropriate by people whom I believe to be good. And the rhetorical heat only seems to get cranked higher and higher. I find it in places where I don’t want to see it. It makes me feel defensive and sad… and yes, vaguely fearful.

When, exactly, did we begin to allow people to verbally bully those whose politics don’t jive with our own? And while I’m being brave, I’ll just come right out and say it: Who will be the first truly influential Christian to censure some of these voices, strongly oppositional voices (on both sides), whose profit is in the controversy and the fight? Honestly, how any Christian can listen to Rush Limbaugh and not cringe at his ego, his blatantly racist and unloving, unkind remarks is beyond me. I am a Christian, and for that very reason, I cannot align myself with certain current aspects of conservatism is this country. And obviously, I cannot align myself with many aspects of liberalism. But BOTH will say I don’t belong in their camp.

I do not believe that God will smite me for my political viewpoints. I do not believe that our country is going to hell in a hand basket because of who is in office.  I believe that democracy is most in danger in the hearts of we the people, who are suspicious, who are jaded, who would rather believe the lies that make us feel good or the good punchline at someone else’s expense, rather than do the hard work . I believe God is most saddened when we leave compassion, love, and charity of spirit aside, or allow those who so obviously lack it to influence our thoughts.

I once heard somewhere, and I have no idea where, that hell was like a group of people sitting around a huge pot of warm, nourishing soup. Everybody’s hands are stuck to the ends of the very long ladles. They try desperately to get the ladels to the mouths, but the handles are too long, and their hands cannot be moved from the ends. Their bodies are emaciated and starving, the smell of the food fills their nostrils, their anguish is unbearable, and they dispair. And yet, the real hell is that they are so singularly focued on satisfying their own hunger, that it never occurs to them that they could be nourished if they would only lift their ladle to someone else’s mouth, and allow someone else’s ladel to reach their own. It seems to me that this is the condition of politics in our country. And it makes goodness, kindness, compassion, sympathy, charity, understanding, forgiveness, and love so much more difficult.

Where is the voice for peace, compassion, and understanding for everybody, not just those with whom we agree, as it pertains to politics? Where is the voice for collaboration, prudence, and moderation that does not count the political cost?

Would we even listen to such voices? Or would they be shouted down? Would they even make it on the news or the radio?

Again, I don’t know.

Heart’s desire.

Today we had another meeting with LMG’s teacher, principal, and other educators at her school. This was the first meeting of the year. Just as last year, she is struggling to make the adjustment, is clearly behind in a few subject areas, and clearly advanced in at least one. On the one hand, these meetings are very, very good. On the other hand, the need for them is not. I guess I had hoped that with some hard work, and a few strategies, it would get easier for her. Lord, I just want it to be eaiser for her.

Today they recommended a full case study and assessment to see if she has a learning disability. As an educator, I know that it is good to get this assessment early. I know that if she has an LD, it does not determine who she is or what her abilities are. To a certain extent, it basically identifies areas where she will struggle, so that we can prepare ahead of time. It’s just difficult to sit where I am sitting, and see this long road stretched out before us, and… well, I just want it to be easier for her.

I don’t want her entire educational experience, both on paper and in her own experience and memory and heart, to be defined by what she can not do or by what she has difficulty doing. My heart’s desire is for her to be able to follow her heart’s desire without any sense of hinderances because of what has been difficult in the past. But, well… that is so very difficult to do… to be confident in our own abilities when our past failures loom so large. I’m not even sure if I know how to do that. And now I need to teach it to my daughter.

This is just to say…

That I am beginning to feel as though my blog has become the equivalent of that room in your basement, or that closet in the spare bedroom, or that nook in the garage where you dump all that crap that doesn’t really belong in other places.

I really haven’t had much to say. Or maybe I have had much to say. I do have things that I am afraid to say here. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about politics, which is something that I have deliberately avoided here. Mainly because it is my opinion that politics in this country is so devisive, and I am not willing to risk judgment for my opinions on the issues. And isn’t that sad? Not just sad that I am not brave enough, but sad that the political timbre is such that I have to fear such a thing?

I would very much like to make this blog a place of positivity and beauty. I am in complete awe of what Karen at Chookooloonks puts out everyday. She is my blogging roll model. But I am struggling to find that connection, that light, that positivity in my own life.

So, you know, I’ll be around. Hopefully with some good stories to tell soon. Until then–talk to me. Tell me what you do to connect to that light and happy place within yourself?

School started over a month ago, and as normal, we hit the ground running. The days go by in a blur and the weeks fly by at a pace that is sometimes gratifying and at other times alarming. I know I haven’t been writing here much. I”m trying to decide if that bothers me. I think, no, it doesn’t. I have enough to be bothered about to add to that list.

I’ve been toying around with the idea of trying to do stuff that would grow this blog, but then I think, no, I have enough jobs and other unfinished business to start a new project.

And that seems to kind of be the undertone to the last month and a half. Figuring out how not to be bothered. How to finish business. How to finish projects. How to not stress. How to better enjoy my life by trying to enjoy my work. Last year had no joy. In fact, very few people knew just how low I really was. And some days I think I could end up right back where I was so easily, and so I’ve tried to be very careful about who and what I give my time and energy to.

Part of that involved not talking so much. For a gal who likes to put it all out there, I’m beginning to learn that there are advantages to just keeping some things for myself. And that has left this blog kind of in limbo. But I’m sure my seven (former) readers understand. And that has been another big burden that I am trying to lay down:  expectations–others’ expectations of me and sometimes even my own. Should can be a very, very dangerous word.

I don’t know. Everything is all disjointed and out of order. Kind of like a cubist painting. Discernable shapes, but none of them are where they are supposed to be. Something hugely out of proportion that looms so large that one has to force one’s eye to look at something else. Which is why this particular post is probably all over the place. I’ve written lots of posts like this lately, but I haven’t published them.

I still have a problem with letting people see this side of me. The disorganized approach. The unarticulated goals. The vascillating committment. I feel vulnerable, and silly, and unprofessional in so many ways, even though I know I am none of those things. It is difficult acknowledge to others that things did not go as planned. To risk that some might see me as a failure when the truth is it’s just plain life.

…… ….. …..

Still just thinking…Not sure how to wrap this up, so I think I’ll just stop.

Hope you’re doing well.

No words today, just pretty pictures.

Thank you to my reader(s).

I’m not sure who among you is responsible for this, so I would just like to publicly thank whoever is responsible for the fact that “arabien booty shaking” has showed up in my google search analytics. I needed some amusement tonight, and that was a mild, but pleasant, surprise.

So thanks.

Making the world a better place.

To McDonalds Management,

I am utterly convinced that none of you actually eat the food that pays your salaries. Or, let me be more specific: you don’t feed it to your kids in your car. May I remind you that you are a fast food provider? The key to fast food is that it ought to be portable, for crying out loud.

I’m a working mom of two kids who takes work home every single night, so I think it’s pretty safe to say that approximately a third of my take-home pay goes directly into your coffers. In exchange for this hefty investment, I believe it is fair to expect that your child-sized cups actually hold the drink, rather than seep out of the bottom. I would be forgiving if the cup were sitting in the car for a few days. However, to find my child’s cup holder full of orange Hi-C  mere hours after having visited a McDonalds drive-thru is just unacceptable. My Toyota Corolla may not be a luxury sedan or an expensive sports car, my floorboard may be littered with french fries and Happy Meal toys. Heck, there are probably even a few melted crayons way down in the seat crevasses. But I avoid all things sticky when it comes to upholstery, and your cups are the absolute worst offenders. I’d like to point out that Wendy’s, Jack in the Box, and Taco Bell’s cups never lose their contents, so I don’t think this is just par for the course.

Much has been said about the efficiency and precision with which you train your employees to bag up their food orders. I always know the napkins are tucked slightly underneath and to the side of the burgers. Thank you. But the cups, you must do something about the cups! Please don’t try to tell me that the thinner cups are good for the environment. While I love nature, I’m not one of those crunchy moms who recycle and only use organic products, which should be pretty obvious since I feed my kids your food. So, get some decent cups or else this earth-raping mom may have to do something drastic–like, COOK!!! And use real dishes! Who wants that??? I certainly don’t! Trust me, you’ll miss me when I’m gone. Fix those cups.

Sincerely,

Disgruntled customer