Build

Rather than resolutions, for several years I participated in the movement that espoused choosing a single word to encapsulate my goals for the coming year.  It has been a while since I have mustered that kind of focus, but this is a year when I feel the need to hone in on what matters to me intently.

Reading Michelle Obama's Becoming this morning, I was struck by a passage she wrote about observing her husband early in their relationship.  He was working with a group of church women in Chicago urging them to band together in their efforts to make positive change.

He was there to convince them that our stories connected us to one another, and through those connections it was possible to harness discontent and convert it to something useful.  Even they, he said--a tiny group inside a small church, in what felt like a forgoteten neighborhood-- could build real political power.

In these words, I found my word.  Build.

The past few years in America and too many other places have been about tearing down.  Tearing down the norms of society and government. Tearing down the illusions of tolerance I thought existed in our country.  Tearing down civil discourse. Tearing down alliances.  Tearing down neighbors and people who don't look, live, or pray just as we do.  An influx of violence and addiction devastatingly tear at the fabric of family.  As a society we lack the patience to fix things and rely too consistently on wiping away altogether what is only in need of repair.

It occurs to me my life is about building.  My professional work is about restoration of lives.  My personal hobbies are about restoration of architecture, community, and beauty.  I long to see things, people made whole.  My motivation is to repair, restore, to build.

This year I resolve to build: my faith, relationships, healthy habits, community, and yes, political power.

OK, Oklahoma

OK, Oklahoma,

I am sending you my first born.

She has been dreaming of this moment since she was four.  Then together we have dreamed this moment would take place right there in the heart of Oklahoma City ever since laying eyes on OU’s dental school campus with its green spaces and down-home-friendly folks.

Being a Prairie Girl myself, I know there is more than dentistry she can learn there.  When the wind comes sweeping down the plain as it seems to with far too much frequency and voracity, she will learn resiliency.  When knocked down, she will learn to rise back up.

She will learn to find beauty in the spare.  Looking at the vast horizon she will see past herself and gain perspective of her place in the world.  Looking into the star filled night sky she will make her wishes, and dealing with a land that can be harsh she will gain the strength and wisdom to make those wishes come true.

I am sending her with confidence knowing you will be good for her and to her.  Knowing there is space enough on your plains for her to grow into the woman she is meant to be.  Knowing in Oklahoma she will be OK.

More of my look back to the back to school season five years ago.

You Drown by Staying

edwin louis cole

I found this handmade card at an annual art fair this summer.  The words came at what must have been the precise moment I needed to hear them.  The message grabbed hold of my heart and has not let go. The artist's doodles appear like ripples reminding me that each life decision we make effects all those that come after.  This is a heavy message, but it comes with a reminder of hope.  When we are in too deep--when we are in over our head--we don't have to stay there; and in choosing not to stay, we choose to live.  

Share a quote.

Currently

Discouraged by the events of the past couple weeks, I looked over some pieces I have written over time hoping to discover hope.  This piece written at this time of year five years ago reminds me that we have been through hard times before. The issues remain frighteningly constant.  We have known discouragement, and we have prevailed.  

Currently, the world is just a little mixed up.

Currently…

…I am saddened by the loss of civility in our culture.  The crass and vulgar language that is considered appropriate in public spaces makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.  The aggressive and disrespectful way people treat each other wears on me.

…I am furious that the interest rates on student loans are doubling, and that those we elected to represent us are doing nothing to stop it.

…I am worried that the wealthiest and most powerful are using their influence in a way that will insure there won’t be a middle class in America for my grandchildren.

…I am heartened by the young people I know personally who have strength, character and  humor despite the culture we have handed them.

…I am awed by every day heroes who reflect the very best in us as they selflessly rush in to eradicate danger.

…I am surrounded by miracles- Grown children who grasp the importance of family; plants that doggedly grow and bloom , sharing beauty regardless of the care I offer; babies on the way, new lives filled with potential.

…I am trying to leave the world a little better than I found it through love and compassion.

…I am comforted by the knowledge that I am not alone.

The world is a mess, that is true.  Still, it has been a mess before.  Time and time again we have seen that human beings hold within us the power to improve the world.  It will take effort and require a tireless insistence on our best.  We must not pander to our most base instincts.  We were not intended to be just another beast in the animal kingdom.  We are intended to rise above.

Currently, I believe in the promise we hold within us to heal.

A Drive in the Flint Hills

Traveling down Interstate 35 near mile marker 106 in Kansas you'll find yourself in the Flint Hills.  I love this open space of rolling grasslands.  The grasses display an array of colors that never ceases to fascinate me.  The undulating plain goes on forever in all directions interrupted only by the occasional tree or livestock.

There is a point as you head south on the highway that the otherwise straight and predictable roadway disappears into the gentle curve of the land.  Look into the distance and you can see where it emerges from the hills and continues on its way.

To me the highway is a metaphor for life.  We make our plans and head on our way, but life throws an unexpected obstacle in our path.  The thing may appear to swallow us whole.  Our vision may be limited so that we may not be able to see our route.  The best we can do is move forward always trusting that we will come through this thing.  The way will become clear once again, and we will continue on our journey.  We only have to trust.

TToT: European Sensibilities

Last night I attended the annual Holocaust Remembrance Service at our local temple. Afterwards, I went through old photographs I took during our visit to Dachau Concentration Camp in Germany.  I also ran across this Ten Things of Thankful post I wrote shortly after that visit and decided it was worth a second look.

Ten things the Europeans reminded me for which I am grateful…

SUVs and huge club-cab vehicles are a choice, not a necessity.

Water should be preserved.

(Run off from the mountain is captured in Salzburg, Austria.)

A person should walk—for his or her own good as well as the planet’s.

Beauty all around us improves life.

(Konstanz, Germany)

You make yourself rich, by keeping your needs few. (Apologies to Thoreau who said this better.)

             (Sweet little home amid multi-storied buildings in Lindau, Germany)

Honor those who have gone before you.

(Every grave we saw in Germany and Austria was immaculately kept no matter its age.)

Laugh much.

          (Top of a carousel at the Christmas market in Friedrichshaffen, Germany)

Celebrate what you have.

       (Scene on the famed Glockenspiel of Munich depicting a dance celebrating the     survival of those who made it through a dread disease that devastated the city.)

Do not let the past define you.

(Dachau, Germany Concentration Camp)

Make your faith known.

(Church in Liechtenstein)

Prayer from last night's memorial service...

Fully Compassionate God on high:

To our six million brothers and sisters murdered because they were Jews,

grant clear and certain rest with You

in the lofty heights of the sacred and pure

whose brightness shines like the very glow of heaven.

Source of mercy:

Forever enfold them in the embrace of Your wings;

secure their souls in eternity.

Adonai: they are Yours.  They will rest in peace.

Amen

TToT

A Manuscript at Last

Book Review of Sorts

http://www.mamakatslosinit.com

Dreams spring forth from the hopeful heart, and the hopeful heart is a happy heart.  Dreams can only mature to reality once they've seen the light of day.  If I name my dream--type it here on the screen, there is no turning back; I will be committed to seeing it through.  At the very least, I will have to make a wholehearted attempt whether I fail or succeed.  My whole life I have avoided risks for fear of failing and looking foolish in other's eyes.  Yet, real failure comes not in trying and falling short, but in never trying at all.  Today I am screwing up my courage and naming the dream I am ready to pursue. I will write a daily devotional book featuring reflections I have written and shared at church as well as additional  essays I have never shared publicly before.  In naming my dream I've moved outside my comfort zone into the place where growth can happen.

With those words I made a New Year's resolution in 2013.  Five years later I am proud to say that I have completed a manuscript.  I have written 365 daily devotions which I hope people will find inspiring and useful in moving towards deeper spirituality.  

It feels so weighty as I hold it in my hands.  Partly, because it is three hundred ninety-three pages, partly because it represents nearly a decade of my life, it is a big deal to me.  This book has been a labor of love.  Because I see God in the everyday, the book is filled with stories about the people and places I love and the ways that God's presence influences all my experiences and relationships.

I have begun the process of editing and clean-up.  I have names of a couple of people to speak to for guidance about publishing; friends of friends, they will be hearing from me soon.  I am hopeful they will be willing to point me in the right direction to begin a process I know absolutely nothing about and find daunting.  But for today I will celebrate.  A dream I have had for long before I made it known to others, is coming true. Whatever, else happens I did what I set out to do.  I wrote a book.

TToT: Light

In the midst of winter in a dark world, this sunbeam greeted me when I woke up Thursday morning. Shining its rainbow light on my happy sign, it just made me feel better about the world.  I experienced a particular pang of thankfulness reflecting on all the people who contribute to my personal happily ever after.

I have also noticed lately that the days are getting longer once again.  I am a winter person, but the realization that one day is a little longer than the day before just picks up my spirits this time of year.

I have been feeling healthy --both light of heart and light of step-- lately.  

The Annual Women's March makes my heart soar.  It restores my hope. It made me so proud that my grown kids participated.  As for me, I thoroughly enjoyed getting to serve on the poster committee giving me the opportunity to take part in my own introverted way. 

I believe love really does trump hate, and that light will overcome the darkness.  For that I am truly thankful.

tenthingsofthankful.blogspot.com

Lone Leaf

Three leaves rustling in the breeze caught my eye.  The tree had shed all its other leaves some time ago, but these three were still firmly hanging on.

My mind shifted to Maudene, a dear lady from church.  Though she hasn’t been well lately she was always a spunky lady with a quick smile and quicker wit.  After their husbands died, Maudene and her friends, Lois and Carol, attended church and Sunday brunch together every week.  They could always be found at the 11:00 service on the East side of the sanctuary about five pews back, heads together sharing a story and laughter.

Tenacious as the three leaves dancing on the branch over my head, these ladies held on.  Both Lois and Carol’s memories and thoughts became muddled over time.  Their bright minds darkened.  Both ladies died in their nineties.

It was bittersweet after this to see Maudene alone in their pew on a Sunday morning.  More than once we moved to join her.

What must it be like to be the last one holding tight, no one to dance in the breeze with you.  No one to share the stories and the laughter.  There is tremendous blessing in a long life, well lived.  Still, there must be pain and loneliness that comes of being the last one still holding on.  The lone leaf.

I pray for Maudene’s restored health.  I pray she doesn’t experience pain.  I pray that some day when her time comes, she is able to let go peacefully, and that her soul is caught on an updraft, the lone leaf dancing across the sky.

I wrote this several years ago.  Maudene is no longer with us.  Coincidentally, my daughter was hired by a local dental practice earlier this year.  The office is managed by Maudene's daughter, Marti.  

Missionary

The job you dreamed you wanted when you grew up.

While other kids were playing things like Kick the Can and Cowboys and Indians, my imagination took me to some odd places.  I played things like Democratic National Convention and a dramatic play game called Uncle Fargo and Aunt Margo which was nothing more than a thinly disguised plan concocted by my friend Chris and me in an effort to fan the flames of romance between her sister and my brother. But perhaps my perennial favorite fantasy play was Missionary.  

Lining my dolls up side by side I would evaluate their needs.  Some would be desperate for clothing, others required medical attention and all were in need of a nutritious meal. Dinners were served on the set of Blue Willow doll china I received one Christmas. Any dolls who had been orphaned were paired with suitable doll families.  Once these immediate needs were seen to, the preaching began immediately followed by academic instruction.

As an adult my work style might be best described as serial monogamy.  I am passionate about the work I do.  I throw myself into it completely.  Single-mindedly,  I tend to give until I am used up.

I then retreat for a period; I rest and refocus. After some self-care and soul searching I stumble onto the next vocation that sparks my interest--vocations that would seem quite familiar to the little girl at play so long ago.  I work very hard in each chosen field for several years until I have once again used up my reserves.

Though I have never journeyed to far off lands to find work as I did in my imagination during childhood, my work has seen me travel through multiple careers. After college I taught both elementary school and pre-school children.  Following grad school I spent several years as a social worker working with families.  I moved on to the job of Director of Children's Programming at my church.  Currently, I am back in the school system serving as School Social Worker to middle school students.

Looking back I would have to say I've been playing Missionary for a good long while now.  It is hard to imagine that will ever change.

Thankful: The Language Arts Edition

On a road trip years ago we had ventured into unchartered (by us) territory.  I was behind the wheel; my husband was navigating.  Anticipating our exit, we were uncertain whether it would be on the left or the right ahead.  Scouring the map, my husband gave a command which I wasn’t sure I had heard correctly.  “The left?”, I asked as it drew ever nearer.  “Right, right, right”, he shouted as I changed lanes looking for a non-existent exit on ….ahem…the right.

Turns out it would have been more productive if he had shouted, correct, correct, correct when I asked if the exit was on the left.  Language is funny that way, it is only as helpful as our ability to use it well.

It has been a week of language used well, and for this I am truly thankful.

It was Youth Sunday at my church last Sunday.  Three of our high school seniors told their personal story about growing in their faith.  I was Director of Children’s Ministry for ten years and watched these kids grow up which was a joy in itself, but when they spoke about the experience, it affirmed years of my work.

They touched my heart with words of gratitude, words of promise, words of affirmation and words of love.  Not to mention their love of the word.

~

My son has me learning German online.  He hopes to study in Germany this fall and wants us to come and share some of the sights and experiences.  We are still in the planning stage and don’t know yet if it is all going to come together, but he set up an account for me at Duolingo.com so I can chat with the locals just in case.

I am thankful that the huge world is more manageable than it used to be to allow travel and the experience of other cultures.  I am thankful for the opportunities my kids have.  I am thankful they are eager to share their world with us.

~

I am thankful for the language of love which we celebrated with a very nice Valentine’s Day.  And for a new little person born on 2/12/14, my newest Great-niece, Charlotte Anne. And for Charlotte’s mom and dad, Laura and Nathan~may they enjoy parenthood.

#355 through 365 of my 1000 Gifts.
This classic thank you note was first written in 2014 and remains one of my favorites.

Small Town Kansas

I was born in a small town

And I can breathe in a small town

Gonna die in this small town

That's probably where they'll bury me

Small Town by John Mellencamp    

Maple Hill, KS

We have been all over small town Kansas this week, trekking from the Northeast to the Southwest corners of the state.  Several of my siblings met at the grave site of our brother in a remote part of the state--a place too few of us have visited in the twenty-five years since we lost him. That gathering served as a wonderful reminder of the importance of family, the gift of sibling love, and the kind of small town town that shaped us in our formative years.  Rather than attempt to put into words all that I am feeling thankful for, I will let these Kansas images speak for me.

Maple Hill, KS

Ulysses, KS

Ulysses, KS

Maple Hill, KS

Burdett, KS

Ellinwood, KS

Ellsworth, KS

Ellinwood, KS

Ellinwood, KS

TToT

Imperfect Perfection

Mama Kat

Inspired by Challenge

The women in my family are currently sharing the book Mistakes I Made at Work by Jessica Bacal.  It includes essays capturing interviews with twenty-five professional women who have accomplished much across a wide variety of fields.  My favorite section of the book is "Learning Resilience", and my favorite essay in this section is the interview with author and film-maker  Ruth Ozeki.  Each interview concludes with tips; Ozeki's second tip spoke to my heart:

The act of bringing anything into the world, of taking an idea and making it real means bringing it from the state of absolute perfection in your mind into a state of relative imperfection in reality.  Every novel or painting is like this: perfect in the maker's mind, but imperfectly realized.  You can look at this as a mistake or simply as an opportunity to engage--because it's through the making of mistakes that we are able to live creative lives.  

The parenting equivalent of the point Ozeki makes is the understanding that we learn more through our mistakes than we do from experiences that seem to go flawlessly.  Truth be told, we humans are rarely flawless at all, but times we come closest are when we are performing tasks or using skills we have already mastered.  Real growth does not occur here. Learning and stretching lie in the untested.  Handmade commands a higher price than machine made because there is beauty and interest in the imperfect, and there are so few among us willing to go the distance to create a thing of beauty or to risk sharing it with the world.  Don't be discouraged when things don't go exactly as you envisioned they would; your vision is limited by your imagination.  Take a risk and trust.  What may at first appear imperfect as it is unfolding, may evolve into the very plan God envisioned for you.  The plan that takes you beyond your wildest dreams.  

Resist--My One Word for 2017

It has been a few years since I have chosen a single word to capture my resolutions at the beginning of a new year, but as 2017 dawns I feel unmoored and in need of an anchor.  To that end, I chose the world "resist": to withstand the actions or effects of something either inside or outside oneself.  
I will resist the suggestion that I accept as normal what is happening politically in my country.  I am too young to personally recall the Duck and Cover drills from childhood school days, but not too young to realize that we are smart to be wary of Russia.  I am not so naive as to think it is an ordinary day when the incoming leader of the Free World says we ought to "get on with our lives" rather than investigate fully what our long-time adversary has done to us, and so I resist.  
I will resist the temptation to trust that someone else has their eye on things.  I will resist the urge to bury my head, to be lazy and uneducated about current events.  
I will resist the coarsening of our culture, the trend towards meanness directed at those who are different.  I will remain firm in my understanding that Jesus said how we treat the least of these directly correlates to how we treat Him.  I am clear that in our society the least of these are the very groups that have been maligned over the course of the last year, and I will offer resistance to this type of speech and behavior.  
I will resist the temptation to ignore the signs of aging and the toll they take on my health becoming more actively engaged in healthy eating and movement.  
I will acknowledge the feelings I have as we move into this new year.  Every day I remain aware of the disappointment I feel that we as a nation did not stand with one unified voice to declare that we are better than the petty, mean-spiritedness of 2016;  that disappointment could harden me making me bitter, but I will resist.

One Word

Abundant Thank Yous: TToT

2016 has drawn to a close.  Thank you, Jesus.  What a bummer of a year...a real stinker.  Still, a part of me fears what comes next will have me longing for the good ol' days of 2016 before long (heavy sigh).  In a nod to Scarlett O'Hara, I am not going to think about that today.  I will worry about that tomorrow.  Today I turn my attention to things I have been very grateful for in 2016.

Loved ones.  Funny, dear, brilliant people I love.

Better health at year's end than beginning.

A warm, cozy home.

The chance to travel.

Books.

Work that has meaning.

Faith.

Democracy.

The bunnies: Opal, Fred and Cookie.

Motherhood.

Welcome 2017.  I will be keeping my eye on you.  

TToT

Shine

Today's Write Before Christmas @ Bigger Picture Blogs prompt is To Seek the Light...

My house is filled with light these days.  There are miles of Christmas lights, a fire in the fireplace and lots and lots of candles.

There is something very soothing about candle light.  It softens the rough edges. Everyone and everything looks better to me in the glow of candlelight as though painted with love.

The flame of a candle is like life itself.  Each require oxygen to survive; each have warmth and energy.  The light of a life well lived illuminates all it touches.

Our life like the flame can flicker and sputter in a wind or storm, in our challenges and burdens.  In the darkest of times all we can manage may be a flicker, but this may be the spark of hope that sustains us. Our flame can also burn brightly especially when we are living a life that glorifies God. When we live for His glory our life becomes brighter and more remarkable to those around us.

As I take in the array of candles burning in my home today I imagine them representing people in my life.  These people are my beacons, my source of guidance and inspiration. Their lives have made a difference in mine.  Some have gone before me and I miss them. Though I may no longer be able to see their brightness first hand, I can see their light still reflected in all that they touched.

We all light our candles off the original light, the one who's birth we celebrate in this season.  Even as the light spreads from one to many its original brightness is not diminished.  Our own light is not diminished when we shine it in the world.  In this same way my saints and beacons were able to shine their lights and share God's love without losing any of their own connection with God.  God's love has no limits.  When our light goes out here on earth, love remains.  It spreads and grows becoming more plentiful.

Let me never miss a chance to shine.   Let me be a part of the string of lights used to bring brightness into the dark, cold world.

2011

A Frosty Night's Journey

Day 2 of the Write Before Christmas...‘Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel’

The coldest week of the year.  In the past forty-eight hours the temperatures had plummeted and the world had become dark and gray.  Distractedly she pulled together her bags and some blankets, food and supplies in case she encountered ice or became stranded on the highway.

She was surprisingly alert for such a wee hour.  She had been doing this same routine for the past eight weeks so perhaps she had grown accustomed to it.  She didn't question her routine for long.  It was simply what needed to be done.  She closed the door behind her bidding her husband and two sleeping children a silent goodbye.

At the other end of this road a young woman lay sleeping in a dorm room.  She would wake in a few hours having to face another appointment- a post-op check up or more therapy.  When she woke she would call her mother who would be somewhere between Kansas and Tennessee yet again. The sound of her groggy voice on the phone would make the mother smile and press on.

The dark highway stretched before the mother's eyes like a ribbon connecting the two women.  Apart from the moon, the night was black and silent.  Yet this frosty night held a lightness as well.  Had there been another living soul around the lightness might not have been visible to them.  But the mother saw it.  This night, the coldest night of the year, would dawn on the day that the mother would not make the return trip alone.

This time the daughter and the mother together would cross this very path in reverse.  It would feel to the mother that the frost had melted. They would head home to be with the others; and it would be Christmas.

During my oldest daughter's sophomore year she was dropped from a cheer stunt and sustained an injury which required surgery.  We had a very long semester: her with the medical stuff, me with trying to be supportive and present from three states away. These memories were on my mind because at 3 a.m. tomorrow morning I leave on a 10.5 hr journey to pick up daughter #2 for Christmas break.  But this time everybody is healthy!

2011