tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25423993456910177282024-02-20T23:38:08.997-08:00The View from the PorchI'm a middle aged, middle-class single mom living in the middle of the block, in the middle of Iowa, in the middle of the United States.
Reflections on life, small-town living, and watching the kids and the garden grow.Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00910764396351638779noreply@blogger.comBlogger178125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-69199038126630798342014-12-19T04:15:00.001-08:002014-12-19T04:15:48.474-08:00A visit from The Ghost of Christmas Perfect<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSMlhU27CokWKkQNOV2RfrerdYB5VpofhXWdRXDHVv3aHIrf3GV3UnELMCBmXHS_jXl-ZoMVknV-iHAxzKTkZeDmKi5sg5Kdo5gzq9i3rvoPUl5RlwsV91dnP2tFesE1btFMQVDrpUm_A/s1600/64246732153886532_BYYfNdWh_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSMlhU27CokWKkQNOV2RfrerdYB5VpofhXWdRXDHVv3aHIrf3GV3UnELMCBmXHS_jXl-ZoMVknV-iHAxzKTkZeDmKi5sg5Kdo5gzq9i3rvoPUl5RlwsV91dnP2tFesE1btFMQVDrpUm_A/s1600/64246732153886532_BYYfNdWh_b.jpg" /></a>My house is in its typical state of controlled chaos, a jumble of shoes and bags at the front door, shreds of wrapping paper here and there, a Christmas tree in the front window and Thanksgiving colors still on the kitchen table. We've not sat there much at all as a family over the past three weeks. It's been nonstop since the pumpkin pie was finished.<br />
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Due to circumstances, my age, or whatever, I have stopped worrying about Christmas. If I were to re-tell Dicken's "A Christmas Carol" today, I'd add a new ghost to the line-up of past and future. I'd write in The Ghost of Christmas Perfect. In the same way our mind becomes accustomed to airbrushed and photoshopped models in advertising, we also learn to see the elusive, perfect Christmas and strive mightily toward that perfection thinking it will make everything just right.<br />
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What would The Ghost of Christmas Perfect show you?<br />
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Would your home be ready for its magazine feature? Would you host lavish parties? Would you have just the right gift for everyone on your list AND have a basket of perfectly wrapped gifts at the front door, just in case you need one? Would your tree be the envy of the neighborhood? Your outdoor lighting display, breathtaking?<br />
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Dickens scared the daylights out of Scrooge, so in keeping with the tone of the novel, The Ghost of Christmas Perfect might walk through our dreams laden with extremely heavy wrapped packages, sunken eyes from lack of sleep, a neverending list of things-to-do, a shrinking pot of money, an enormous credit card bill, and a loudly ticking clock. The Ghost of Christmas Perfect shows us that perfection is something we may strive for, but it isn't really perfection we want. Everything may be picture-perfect, but is it real?<br />
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I suggest that it isn't a perfect Christmas we're longing for. We very well may pull off what we think is the perfect Christmas, but we are left unsatisfied and disappointed. I think what we are longing for is something like fulfillment, being content. It's warmth and kindnesses. It's a feeling of peace, within us and around us. It's feeling like we are enough at this present moment and it is good. None of that can be bought, planned, wrapped, or sprinkled with colored sugar. It's about being open to all that the world offers in all your vulnerability, to let love in, to really realize that your life is precious and brief, and to not waste a moment in fear, anger, or hate.<br />
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What does your Ghost of Christmas Perfect show you?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-46037227167369665152014-12-09T15:36:00.000-08:002014-12-09T15:36:08.785-08:00Within the past 24 hours, it hit me.<div>
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The list of things 'to-do' became more challenging than usual. Work projects, deadlines, and situations coming to a head, started dancing like sugar plum fairies in my mind. Add to the mix all the holiday preparations to those deadlines, and the sugar plum fairies begin to lose their cuteness. They are not lithe little ballerinas any longer but Sumo wrestlers all jockeying for my attention and taking up far too much room.</div>
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Can I get an amen?</div>
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My beloved says to me, "You don't have any time to rest." And I'm caught off-guard. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmlBJardZZ4RQBm3VsyDgb160RTgZZh11VxW66do_owczvcsDZQnT7Y-WGUprD64hQzuALcuoRRAEFOgJrnFh2YyG-HgzgSrRrcxrCUS6SeHUMFzw2Y-wmzDQhWbiLUS1gMk_fzs7F-0/s1600/itllgetdone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmlBJardZZ4RQBm3VsyDgb160RTgZZh11VxW66do_owczvcsDZQnT7Y-WGUprD64hQzuALcuoRRAEFOgJrnFh2YyG-HgzgSrRrcxrCUS6SeHUMFzw2Y-wmzDQhWbiLUS1gMk_fzs7F-0/s1600/itllgetdone.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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What? Wait...rest? Where is that on the list? There are projects and grants and meetings and cookies and gifts and stuff falling off the plate that I hope isn't too important. Everyone has lists like this, right? Especially in December?</div>
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As those Sugar Plum Sumos bounced and jostled through their dance this morning at 4 a.m., I decided not to fight them for a few more moments of sleep, but to start the day and the coffee pot.</div>
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It's funny how those Sumos got smaller in the darkness of the morning. When I realized that this was a list of things I get to do, I appreciated them more. They returned to being little girls following the dainty choreography of the dance. </div>
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This little cosmic reminder that came to me this morning reminded me of what I knew all along. It will get done as it needs to. </div>
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Take time to pause, to be thoughtful, to rest as you move through The List of Things to Do. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-49250685389642370902014-11-16T07:57:00.000-08:002014-11-16T07:57:23.224-08:00Giving up on balanceA couple of weeks ago, my son asked me why I bring my geraniums inside and not just let them go with the other annuals.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6z9gAZetEg_jSRJcDgG2IxoZttNsWVMi_2vLSnlFi7y9c9CF6xQ7yllU22YeDbA-qAPf4CIvsT03MaU7eZShvRTFQ_rzNyiR9-yoo6BW1YOlYyq3AHneeu6fsppYkp34lR5EeTEw4er4/s1600/DSC00587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6z9gAZetEg_jSRJcDgG2IxoZttNsWVMi_2vLSnlFi7y9c9CF6xQ7yllU22YeDbA-qAPf4CIvsT03MaU7eZShvRTFQ_rzNyiR9-yoo6BW1YOlYyq3AHneeu6fsppYkp34lR5EeTEw4er4/s1600/DSC00587.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a>Because there are mornings like this when winter arrives like an unexpected guest and the coral blossoms warm up the room.<br />
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The first snowfall of the season and my neighbor men have been dutifully out blowing away the good two inches of snow since 7:30 a.m. Yes, it's just two inches and I get that they enjoy using their toys.<br />
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I have read a couple of articles this week with similar threads. <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2014/11/09/opinion/sunday/our-mommy-problem.html?_r=0" target="_blank">Our Mommy Problem</a> from the NY Times, November 9, 2014 and this in the Huffington Post, <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/11/13/elizabeth-gilbert-life-you-want_n_6148472.html" target="_blank">The Word Elizabeth Gilbert Says Women Use as a Weapon Against Themselves</a>.<br />
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To me, both speak volumes about the truly unrealistic expectations we can place on ourselves as women, regardless of whether or not we have children. It can be hard to say no when we are asked to do something we think is important or something that we would just have fun doing, but simply do not know how to wedge it into our already overscheduled lives.<br />
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So, we feel guilty. We feel guilty and we feel like our lives are not enough or way too much as we currently live them. We seek to find "balance" because we are told to take care of ourselves. And our children. And our relationships. And our family. And our jobs. And our homes. And our churches, faith communities, PTAs, civic groups. Work-life balance. Mind-body-spirit balance. The yin and yang of marriage to see one's partner as more than a roommate and someone who shares the housework and bills.<br />
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The thing is, it is all a construct of our own making, and that of popular American culture. You do have a choice. You've been choosing this life you have all along. And if you find that this one you are living is more about what you think you should be doing (should is another word to get rid of, imho) because it's what others expect, then by all means ask yourself what is important to you. Not what is important to what others expect of you. Only you know who those people are in your life who matter most. They love you enough to be true to yourself.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-10171314791888343182014-11-09T06:58:00.000-08:002014-11-09T06:59:05.655-08:00I touched itIn June of 1982, I touched it.<br />
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Today, 25 years later, we remember when it fell in 1989.<br />
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As a 17 year old girl, freshly graduated from Red Oak Community High School, I went on a trip with other Iowa teenagers from United Church of Christ congregations. We were learning about the heritage of our denomination by going to the source.<br />
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I remember the train ride leaving a modern and somewhat familiar West German countryside and entering East Germany. Armed soldiers boarded the train to check our passports and it was an experience unlike any other we tender and sheltered rural Iowans had ever known before.<br />
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West Berlin was an island of western culture and freedom, until you reached the edges of the city. Until you saw the white crosses of remembrance with dates past and very recent along the fence that lined the river Spree.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeRUxvRLaprgxm1bgS13Kn7RsTyhXp0JyPd2Usw_bq2X9_rG0DgbtqPsNhUXenG6aP2Hgt89KgI1WCQBdvA35EjEz4GUi32ZDBbSalyRKsSEKfzG06ZcfDmVt7D1ZmEL4t2OILx3jqJI/s1600/The+Wall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUeRUxvRLaprgxm1bgS13Kn7RsTyhXp0JyPd2Usw_bq2X9_rG0DgbtqPsNhUXenG6aP2Hgt89KgI1WCQBdvA35EjEz4GUi32ZDBbSalyRKsSEKfzG06ZcfDmVt7D1ZmEL4t2OILx3jqJI/s1600/The+Wall.jpg" /></span></a><br />
Until you saw the imposing concrete slab of division.<br />
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Until you saw the concertina wire.<br />
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Until you saw the strip known as No Man's Land where any intruder would be immediately shot.<br />
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No, we knew none of this in anything we had ever experienced before.<br />
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We traveled into East Berlin and were required to exchange our West German pfennig coins with heft and weight in the palm of our hands for East German coins made of aluminum or tin. Their value equally light. We were required to spend the entire sum, which was a little hard to as I recall. I bought a small calendar and some postcards to carry with me back to Iowa.<br />
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East Berlin was exquisite in its beauty. The Soviets wanted the stunning architecture that survived the wars for themselves. Whereas West Berlin had been rebuilt from the devastation of bombs, the Wall carefully claimed the amazing churches and cathedrals that withstood the war.<br />
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Until you saw the piles of rubble around the corner that had not been moved in 40 years.<br />
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I remember that morning in 1989, waking up to see revelers standing on the wall, standing within the Brandenburg Gate. I remembered how only seven years before, the wall was as permanent as the mountains. I remember crying in my shock and surprise.<br />
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I am so grateful for that time in Berlin at an age where extraordinary experiences have lifelong implications. And grateful that it was as close as I have ever been to war.<br />
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http://www.photojournale.com/details.php?image_id=39Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-50434949127996234912014-11-03T19:09:00.001-08:002014-11-09T16:43:09.514-08:00And there was a little girl with blonde curlsFew things will sober a parent more than a morning spent in a pediatric specialty clinic at a major university hospital. I am most grateful that we were there for allergy testing, nothing serious at all. Many other children and their families were there for more involved and serious medical issues.<br />
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And there was a little girl, with blonde curls, maybe three years old. She appeared in the doorway of the lab where my son was having blood drawn. She wore a pair of black tights and nothing else save the two cotton balls taped to the inside of each elbow. Alone, she quietly scootched her way past the door, her parents a few slow steps behind her. </div>
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I thought of them and felt guilty for my gratitude, hoping that perhaps her visit was not for something serious. A few minutes later, we moved on to another exam room, and down the hall, I saw her scootch by again, alone. And then later her parents. She seemed more at home in the clinic than I wanted her to be, this girl with a head full of blonde curls. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.comGrinnell, IA 50112, USA41.743611 -92.72472199999998641.6488095 -92.886083499999984 41.838412500000004 -92.563360499999987tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-13232495659592300882014-05-26T04:49:00.000-07:002014-05-26T04:49:34.091-07:00Honor<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aPmEjMmEuItJAhM-tA3kOOLUxpPgqvK2h2zV04hmfbKmf55mpYWd6WdHxf_74yKDucU67SSVjSsFzEpdZ6Jp5qIg_pKOIiNqatEwaSNE-8_i-pnpEQPYlHOsiA4llpMU47_vjnTDyvE/s1600/537689_4009596801455_1810398540_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aPmEjMmEuItJAhM-tA3kOOLUxpPgqvK2h2zV04hmfbKmf55mpYWd6WdHxf_74yKDucU67SSVjSsFzEpdZ6Jp5qIg_pKOIiNqatEwaSNE-8_i-pnpEQPYlHOsiA4llpMU47_vjnTDyvE/s1600/537689_4009596801455_1810398540_n.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Thousands of service flags are carefully stored by a wonderful group of volunteers in Red Oak, Iowa and flown on Memorial Day. It is a true labor of love and deep respect. <span style="text-align: center;">Red Oak lost a highly disproportionate share of soldiers in both the Civil War and World War II. These photos really do not do justice to the sheer number of flags that do not fail to tighten the throat or bring a tear to the eye.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Made up of young men from southwest Iowa, Company M was in north Africa, Tunisia, fighting the Nazis when they were ambushed in a place known as Kasserine Pass. <i>Life</i> Magazine ran an article on this event with a stunning photo of our town with the locations of the family homes that received telegrams in early March 1943 that their soldier was missing. The headline, "War Hits Red Oak: A small prairie town gets word that 23 of its boys are missing in action after a battle in North Africa."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Red Oak lost more than 50 men in World War II, many of them in this battle. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">From her book, <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=1DMQzt5s2PwC&pg=PA110&lpg=PA110&dq=red+oak+iowa+wwII+saturday+evening+post&source=bl&ots=in7TcTPYG-&sig=0U730zLCB7ZQuqN2IdPb0y8h86I&hl=en&sa=X&ei=gf6BU56sEOOU8QH66IG4Bw&ved=0CDkQ6AEwAg#v=onepage&q=red%20oak%20iowa%20wwII%20saturday%20evening%20post&f=false">"The Home Fronts of Iowa 1939-1945,"</a> Lisa K. Ossian writes,</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"In 1946 the nation noted its military losses as the<i> Saturday Evening Post </i>remembered Red Oak's:</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25f37BNBHVygi0h5KS1FUns0H1VlMbUtLHIGHVdP5ajsGY8bGWOY6uwQ72UrzCW9vrieZysfs8WUjRgGI9nNEMa0YKHS-Rd_Hod1lqujXSLp0-AX7IjnTwbv5o6jtA6EmYSUqvfJmJQc/s1600/292174_4009607761729_1556564766_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25f37BNBHVygi0h5KS1FUns0H1VlMbUtLHIGHVdP5ajsGY8bGWOY6uwQ72UrzCW9vrieZysfs8WUjRgGI9nNEMa0YKHS-Rd_Hod1lqujXSLp0-AX7IjnTwbv5o6jtA6EmYSUqvfJmJQc/s1600/292174_4009607761729_1556564766_n.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"> 'If New York City had lost as many sons as this Iowa town, the dead would have numbered 70,000.'</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The article continued: 'Red Oak, Iowa looks like the home town we dreamed of overseas; rich and contented, with chicken and blueberry pie on Sundays, for whose sake some said we were fighting the war. It is the kind of town we wanted to be the same when we came home, at the same time it would somehow know what the war was about.'</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Without a doubt, this is true 70 years later. Growing up in this town, in the early 1970s, this amazing story was never told. I did not learn of any of this until I was in college. Thirty years was still too close, too painful for many. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqO1DV30W0jsi7-dHyypFcJqSwy0j-mb8_6y9qqzpZGNuV2i8eCXyr8X61Dwu94_kUbpcFEFrCmvBiQ8swkgbtXXs49lM340Qbs9JHS2d1-P7Qdsqz0aSmHdEXFgi76hdD7UcG2XAic3k/s1600/246532_4009585801180_2134313700_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqO1DV30W0jsi7-dHyypFcJqSwy0j-mb8_6y9qqzpZGNuV2i8eCXyr8X61Dwu94_kUbpcFEFrCmvBiQ8swkgbtXXs49lM340Qbs9JHS2d1-P7Qdsqz0aSmHdEXFgi76hdD7UcG2XAic3k/s1600/246532_4009585801180_2134313700_n.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">There is also the sense of getting on with life. No one was doing this for fame, fortune, or glory. They did what they were asked to do. It was their duty and they threw themselves into it. When they returned, if they returned, the counted themselves as blessed because they had seen and experienced things no one should. Their next duty was to go back to their lives and make things right again. And they did. Quietly, they put these days behind them and honored them silently through their everyday lives. </span>Laurahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00910764396351638779noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-80457560626172008072014-05-16T03:58:00.001-07:002014-05-16T03:58:25.475-07:00From where I stand<span style="font-size: large;">From where I stand, my forties are nearly past. Like in about eight weeks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I admit. I was sort of blase about turning 50. I've never really gotten my knickers in a knot about "big" birthdays. I tend to welcome birthdays because I do recognize that "it is a privilege denied to many." We have a list of those friends and family who left us too soon, don't we? However, the past few months have been a bit of a wake up call.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This spring, I've spent some considerable time with family. We traveled to visit our 80 and 90-something family members in Florida. As our trip got underway, my mother had emergency bypass surgery. Less than a month later, we celebrated the life of my stepmother and did our best to hold it together. We had several conversations about what my family members think about living in their 70's, 80's, and 90's, and how they want to live their lives from here on. We also talked about what many families avoid like root canals, a tax audit, and Miley Cyrus.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We had conversations <gasp> about last days and how they hoped it would go at the end. Wishes and thoughts and memories from moments throughout their lives, long before I ever knew them. </gasp></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And now my dad is making plans to move out of the house he and my stepmother lived in for twentysome years and downsizing into something much smaller. More transition.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhchRfOd5DT5F1Zpp_Uhd5y5tlQSvcxQj514aEQ8QbuADmWb9npLfpP0bw74K35HJ39k2frqQ3YgXuMGkSLIWgssw0KYsacvPaMHHgoxnYMjaXi5fqYobjHa8H2kmEX8NuDTXfAqACdvR4/s1600/18079633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhchRfOd5DT5F1Zpp_Uhd5y5tlQSvcxQj514aEQ8QbuADmWb9npLfpP0bw74K35HJ39k2frqQ3YgXuMGkSLIWgssw0KYsacvPaMHHgoxnYMjaXi5fqYobjHa8H2kmEX8NuDTXfAqACdvR4/s1600/18079633.jpg" height="320" width="212" /></span></a><span style="font-size: large;">From where I stand, I realize that in a little more than 20 years, I'll be my parents' age. And that's when my knickers got in a knot. What do I need to do in the next 20 years to be ready?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In the midst of my slight panic came crazy things in the mail, like the AARP stuff. The universe and one's internet browser does conspire to provide some interesting ads in the sidebar. Like this, from our old pal from "Dinner and a Movie," <b><i><a href="http://annabellegurwitch.com/blog2/" target="_blank">Annabelle Gurwitch</a>.</i></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yes. I'm heading to my local bookstore to order this. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And I'm going to <a href="http://www.grinnell.edu/news/how-we-die-now-intimacy-and-work-dying" target="_blank"><b><i>open this up</i></b> </a>and read it. I was honored to receive a copy as a gift and true to life, it's been a little too close to home to actually read it. Past that now! In her book, "How We Die Now," Karla Erickson says that we can expect to live </span><span style="font-size: large;">30 years longer than our recent ancestors. We are living longer lives than our grandparents and great-grandparents. Does anyone else remember how "old" their grandparents looked when they were in their 60s? Just looking back at photos of my grandparents compared to my dad and his siblings at the same age, there is little comparison. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">For those of us who graduated from high school in 1982, this means that living until we are 100 is going to be a little more common than it is now. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Just take a moment and consider that. Maybe fifty MORE years? Really? When you think back on the past years of your life and then are told that you could live just as many again, that's a little staggering. </span><span style="font-size: large;">The good news is that we can anticipate this and envision what it will look like. The other side of the coin is that life in our 80s will be a lot different than life in our 40s. Living longer often means needing more care and assistance in our later years.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Our trailblazers, the elder Baby Boomers, are already redefining retirement and senior living. And they are doing the same for elder caregiving and for what they want for their parents and themselves. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Believe me, I'm not rushing this. But I am not standing here alone, am I? I'm raising teenagers and looking at college brochures at the same time I'm helping my dad downsize into a condo and facing the fact that I probably have 20 years left in a full time working world. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I have some dreaming to do. Plans to put in place. Life to live. It is a little terrifying and a whole lot of exciting at the same time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Almost thirty years ago, this little movie was in the theater and is one of those that most adults my age remember very fondly. Ferris is now 52. Look at that fresh face of our younger days. These words are still important, maybe more so now that we're halfway, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNaXvlBfkJo3c0nrVfObRDwihBCnROuY-FMO9pxPdYvgswK7BMHejw-jUGNtZQW2jc7W51SKG1-J6QWdd-kTcgNqkSAi2al0SYg10N3djy3LptNNTbE1Ye7Qql77QpM3TWJUKUBVFtjyM/s1600/thumbs_life_moves_pretty_fast_if_you_dont_stop_and_look_around_once_in_while_you_could_miss_it_from_the_guy_whos_49.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNaXvlBfkJo3c0nrVfObRDwihBCnROuY-FMO9pxPdYvgswK7BMHejw-jUGNtZQW2jc7W51SKG1-J6QWdd-kTcgNqkSAi2al0SYg10N3djy3LptNNTbE1Ye7Qql77QpM3TWJUKUBVFtjyM/s1600/thumbs_life_moves_pretty_fast_if_you_dont_stop_and_look_around_once_in_while_you_could_miss_it_from_the_guy_whos_49.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Ferris Buller's Day Off" 1986</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-29385529207709106772014-05-03T20:46:00.000-07:002014-05-04T06:01:41.467-07:00Expressing Happiness"It's been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, out there on the edge of the prairie..."<br />
<br />
The blog has been quiet for several weeks, but life has been far from quiet. The truth is, it's been rather intense around here. There hasn't been any lack of topics to write about but rather too many to choose from. We did an epic spring break road trip to Florida to visit family. My mother had emergency heart bypass surgery and she's recovering beautifully, thank you. My stepmother of 36 years passed early last month. Two of my closest and dearest friends each had major life issues that I wanted to be present and support them through. I was gifted a car. It's been a rather busy time, to say the least.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX9mlg6Wr5Kv2-5yGtz6mcG_hvAeg5-ocC2-4_rqoFWfBooa5nLbbSH0yy2VkAGEKBfvX2xe80czrfr_Cqjb4ILjaEcT34LJrZWRs0ycfVqFy5X-jI7Ri8H6bY2i_XLRMuJ9Qr0qONcVI/s1600/DSC00285.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX9mlg6Wr5Kv2-5yGtz6mcG_hvAeg5-ocC2-4_rqoFWfBooa5nLbbSH0yy2VkAGEKBfvX2xe80czrfr_Cqjb4ILjaEcT34LJrZWRs0ycfVqFy5X-jI7Ri8H6bY2i_XLRMuJ9Qr0qONcVI/s1600/DSC00285.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>In keeping with the theme of "Gee, whiz" my kids met Garrison Keillor tonight and it's kind of a big deal. Keillor's radio show, "A Prairie Home Companion" on National Public Radio has been a Saturday night thing for our family forever, especially with their Grandparents Nelson.<br />
<br />
Often, Dad and Pat would get in the car about 5 p.m., turn on NPR and listen to Keillor start the show. They'd drive to a nearby town, have dinner, and be back in the car in time for the news from Lake Wobegon. And I've written about this sort of happening <b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"><i><span id="goog_1819630638"></span>before here on the View.</i><span id="goog_1819630639"></span></a></b><br />
<br />
They enjoyed Keillor and the entire show for many years. They attended a show in Omaha years ago and had a wonderful time. Bertha's Kitty Boutique was a long time favorite sponsor.<br />
<br />
After a lengthy illness, Pat passed quietly last month at the care center. While Dad and Pat love their church and have been active church members their entire lives, it was not a funeral they wanted. It was a celebration of life.<br />
<br />
To that end, the celebration for Pat's incredible life felt a lot like A Prairie Home Companion. Laughter through tears. Good music. Something poignant that touches a place deep inside. Memories of long ago. And something to think about as it ends.<br />
<br />
The day after Pat's celebration of life, I got the tickets for tonight's show for my kids and me to take Grandpa to the live broadcast in Des Moines at the Civic Center.<br />
<br />
When the introduction began, there was a moment that was rich and full of a love that will never pass.<br />
<br />
"Oh hear that old piano, from down the avenue... I smell the tulips, I look around for you. Oh my sweet, sweet old someone coming through that door...it's Saturday and the band is playing, Honey could we ask for more?"<br />
<br />
The theme for my meditation today happened to be expressing happiness. If our sense of happiness is full and even overflowing, it can do nothing else but make others around us happy. This is an evening that memories are made of. This evening we felt Grandma's presence once again. And my kids met Garrison Keillor. With a little patience and perseverance outside the green room door, they were invited in, said hello, shook his hand, and got an autograph.<br />
<br />
Full and overflowing. When we express happiness, we can't help share that abundance of joy. And a joyful night it was.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-50009252227192712102014-02-23T05:17:00.000-08:002014-02-23T05:17:48.655-08:00And whatever you do, let the air out of the balloon as you go alongIt's the weekend and I'm recovering from the week that was. Friday felt like Monday and what a joyful surprise it was when I could remind myself that it was in fact, Friday.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiAjJ6yKo-8ARLN_CqIDQOXsx21hVmwoRG1cnyDyFHJwQo4pIHRS8lEuDEVQxIWNveQK1dsERox-1t1SkD4xFg3toy4rmQS3qzJKklw9TGd46D3YBVXA2-n4h1aDXncLb12WqCZKZt8H8/s1600/breathe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiAjJ6yKo-8ARLN_CqIDQOXsx21hVmwoRG1cnyDyFHJwQo4pIHRS8lEuDEVQxIWNveQK1dsERox-1t1SkD4xFg3toy4rmQS3qzJKklw9TGd46D3YBVXA2-n4h1aDXncLb12WqCZKZt8H8/s1600/breathe.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><br />
Let's just say that a couple of the Really Important People in my life were dealing with Big Stuff that threw us into a crisis mode. You know how that is. Coasting along and BAM, you get ricocheted into another orbit temporarily or forever. It's hard to concentrate on anything other than the crisis because dealing with those details becomes all-consuming. <br /><br />
By now, things are pretty well sorted out. And I'm hugely relieved. It's just that I forgot to exhale. You know, slowly, instead of all at once. <br />
<br />
I'm the kind of person, and maybe this resonates with you, too, that when I am in The Zone of Crisis, I tend to be so laser-focused on what I need to do to get through the crisis that I forget to exhale and release the built-up stress.<br />
<br />
Friday afternoon, I ran into a good friend and her teen who had had an accident. Nothing serious at all, but not comfortable by any means. The teen began to cry as Mom told the story of what had happened. And because I am who I am, I cried too. My friend said, "Don't worry, these are tears of release, letting out the stress of it all." <br />
<br />
My p-shrink gets out the trusty balloon when I have those moments of complete overwhelm following some sort of big deal that requires a ton of my energy. He blows air into the balloon and says, "This is the energy, positive and otherwise, going into this balloon, into your situation. If I let go of the balloon, it depletes all at once." And the balloon goes whizzing around out of his grip. "If I let a little air out in increments, I can continue to hold on to it and control it." The other danger is where I used to be. Just keep blowing up that balloon, just keep holding on to that stress and adding more as you go, until the balloon pops. <br />
<br />
I'm getting better at it. I do recognize that. But I often fight back those tears of release earlier in the midst of the crisis because I have some kind of belief that looking strong in the face of it all will somehow scare off the crisis? That it will convince me that I am strong enough to deal with it? Silly. I know I am strong enough. More than. <br />
<br />
It's about honoring our emotions. Letting them come up, feeling them, and watching them subside. Because eventually they go if you let them leave. Often we are so scared of feeling something that might be perceived as negative or hurtful that we try to ignore it, stuff the emotions down with food, drugs, alcohol, shopping, (fill in the blank of your favorite means). If we just allow the emotions to come, experience them, and then let them go, then the emotion no longer holds power over us. If we ignore them or use other means to repress them, then those emotions control us.<br />
<br />
I continue to learn and continue to put these lessons into practice in the heat of the moment, because that's when it really counts. I know all these things, and so do you, it's just actually remembering to do it. Noticing the signs of tension and the need for a healthy release rather than a toddler-type tantrum will help you deal along your way through crisis mode or every day issues that can put our panties in a knot. Let the air out of the balloon gradually as you go. (You know I am saying this for my own self, right?) Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-85581439931738161602014-02-07T08:01:00.002-08:002014-02-07T08:05:25.581-08:00Making sunshine in the depths of winterFrom the depths of January (must give credit to Jonna who first wrote that very descriptive phrase) into the depths of February. When one wakes to -12 F and the view from the porch looks like a freezer seriously overdue for a defrost, we are talking about "depths" on many levels.<br />
<br />
It is nearly impossible to be anything but in the present moment when it is this kind of bone-chilling, "Little House on the Prairie" kind of winter. One may have a vivid imagination and can go to their "happy place" in their mind, but I think that might take some level of Zen mastery I have yet to accomplish. I've been following a ten-day series of saying yes to the simple and extraordinary beauty that constantly surrounds us. Being aware of what our senses are currently taking in is one way of being in the present moment.<br />
<br />
Senses sensing...<br />
<br />
It's just plain cold. My eyes see cold. My nose smells cold and the little nose hairs are freezing together. (the tried and true test to determine if air temp is below zero) My skin, what little is exposed, feels cold. I like winter. I do. I will gladly take a foot of snow in exchange for this kind of cold. SubZero is a fridge, not my kind of climate.<br />
<br />
Days like this I hope to see sun dogs in the morning skies. I marvel in the sparkling of the snow and if I get a glimpse of the cardinals in the yard, all the better.<br />
<br />
But even this Pollyanna is starting to wish for a slow thaw. Still six weeks until spring break, so in the meantime I'm defying winter blues by taking a long weekend to see dear ones and have a change of scenery. Granted, Iowa's west coast will look highly similar to where I am right now, but a little windshield time is good therapy.<br />
<br />
Find something this weekend, wherever you are, to warm up your days. Make that coffee date with that friend you've been meaning to catch up with. Bake something - even if it is pre-made cookie dough. Plant seeds for a windowsill garden. Knit something. Put on your favorite dance music and shake what your momma gave you. (No one's watching so get over yourself and work up a sweat!) Snuggle with a special someone.<br />
<br />
The point is, make your own warmth until Mother Nature catches up. What will you do to generate some heat?<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-15565297501856497972014-01-01T08:07:00.000-08:002014-01-01T08:07:53.553-08:00Another chance <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfB3YsKA8TYQojZfigbNYlm28xfwwejrfncBkFiqal7dMsr8KclH_n3-FUgQdEbZwCnNZojCXL98rMwtWl6fVADbjV2FgMhrFzM_cXkoeTHH2UX5LFmA-wzfmNTHIrk4d9lTQALgqpowY/s1600/531324_10200176060867380_102815567_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfB3YsKA8TYQojZfigbNYlm28xfwwejrfncBkFiqal7dMsr8KclH_n3-FUgQdEbZwCnNZojCXL98rMwtWl6fVADbjV2FgMhrFzM_cXkoeTHH2UX5LFmA-wzfmNTHIrk4d9lTQALgqpowY/s1600/531324_10200176060867380_102815567_n.jpg" /></a>It's a snowy New Year's morning in Iowa and it fits with my desire for a fresh start. A new layer of snow, a clean sheet of paper, a blank canvas, all ready for us to make our mark. I've hung my new calendars - a lovely Carl Larsson art calendar I received as a gift and the functional on-the-fridge one that kinda keeps track of our family.<br />
<br />
My grandparents, Pearl and Lester, were married on New Year's Day. A lovely and symbolic gesture of a new beginning.<br />
<br />
It is a human concept, after all. This idea of calendars and ways of keeping time is something we've created, so why do we allow the turning of the year to have such power over us?<br />
<br />
For those of us at a certain age, the concept of time is ever-present. We are beholden to our daily lists of things to do that we must schedule time with friends and time to play and time to just be. At the same time, we notice the dramatic march of time as we watch our children and grandchildren and our parents, and ourselves, grow.<br />
<br />
And while today is just a Wednesday and tomorrow we return to work and school, there is something about that calendar of 365 days. How will those days be spent? Who will we spend them with? What do I want to be sure I get to do this coming year? Go gently with that or you could be totally overwhelmed, just saying.<br />
<br />
What I hope you will consider is becoming more aware of the little things that make you smile, that make you think, that make you wonder.<br />
<br />
<div class="todaysquote">
"We spend January 1 walking through our lives, room by
room, drawing up a list of work to be done, cracks to be patched. Maybe
this year, to balance the list, we ought to walk through the rooms of
our lives... not looking for flaws, but for potential."<br />
-- Ellen Goodman</div>
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-4219311145321941902013-12-21T06:09:00.000-08:002013-12-21T06:09:15.279-08:00My most dreaded question at this time of year<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's just days before Christmas and again I realize that it has come upon me fast. Things to do, things not yet finished, the thrash that this time of year can be is here in full force.</span></span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcI-Ouv9kK6Q4BwONgoQYfWcCysejHqtlsvDWhE9FfzHdtaaQ_wseOcUg4A-KQpauZ1hNER1j8bxpi1c3_4677pRDlTV_5IiMg_x96y_Ganee5l72JSV-jCNgHMS53JW3c_N82BWs2kUI/s1600/Charlie-Brown-Christmas-540x273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcI-Ouv9kK6Q4BwONgoQYfWcCysejHqtlsvDWhE9FfzHdtaaQ_wseOcUg4A-KQpauZ1hNER1j8bxpi1c3_4677pRDlTV_5IiMg_x96y_Ganee5l72JSV-jCNgHMS53JW3c_N82BWs2kUI/s1600/Charlie-Brown-Christmas-540x273.jpg" height="161" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I have enjoyed this Advent a lot. The making-room-in-your-heart part of the season. In lieu of checking off items on the to-do list, I have been spending time with people I care about. I have been knitting chemo caps. I have been reading a good and racy novel to a dear friend a chapter a week. I've been doing satisfying work at my job. I have learned a great deal about myself and those I love. I have enjoyed time with my kids. I have kind of bucked the trend. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Last night, I had a young man appear on my doorstep. "Good evening. I'm with the National Atheist Society and I have a brief survey I'd like to conduct with you."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Uhm...no. No thank you. I support what you are doing, but I'm not interested in answering questions tonight."</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">No. I am not an atheist, but I am probably alot more closely aligned with him theologically than with some of my other Christian brothers and sisters. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Would he have asked me if I am "ready for Christmas?" It's a common conversation thread at this time of year, like chatting about the weather. I choose to answer this one carefully when asked of me and it depends on who is doing the asking. Do you mean that all my cards have been mailed, my shopping done, presents wrapped, cookies baked, house immaculate and looking like a Better Homes and Gardens spread?</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The follow up question as we return to life after the holiday is, "Did you have a good Christmas?" Does that mean that everything went exactly how it was planned? All Norman Rockwell, everyone minded their p's and q's and everyone was delighted with their gifts and we were with ours? </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Here's the thing. That place within us that is yearning to be touched isn't touched with gifts and food and stuff and cookies and reindeer and Santa. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As a child of the 60's, I grew up with "A Charlie Brown Christmas." In fact, in my copy of the book, there are notes written for me when I read the passage from Luke 2 as a little girl during a Christmas program. Charlie Brown is increasingly frustrated, depressed, and disillusioned about the commercialization of Christmas. Yes, even in 1965 when things were supposedly, simpler. He is about at the breaking point when he turns to his friend Linus and asks, "What is Christmas all about?!" </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And Linus replies, reciting these ancient lines from the Gospel of Luke, Chapter two. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. </span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. </span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
And the angel said unto them, </span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. </span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. </span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. </span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, </span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"So there you have it, Charlie Brown. That's the true meaning of Christmas."</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Wait. That's it? No Christmas cards? No spritz cookie recipe? No obligatory obligations? No gift buying/wrapping/opening? No watching my beloved, "White Christmas?" But it isn't Christmas without these things!</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Or is it?</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-59212927581944129132013-11-25T04:23:00.000-08:002013-11-25T04:23:20.030-08:00Surrender<div class="motd-quote" style="background-color: color: #333333; font-family: HelveticaNeueLTCom55Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<div style="line-height: 25px;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">I've been participating in an online meditation challenge the past couple of weeks. These are always hugely transformative. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">Today's thought was so timely. In the practice of learning to be present, one must learn to let go and trust that things will work out they way they should for everyone involved. This means I don't always get my way and I have to be ok with that. There is a huge amount of trusting the unknown in this practice. That is really challenging for me because my mind wants to know what is ahead and to be able to lay a path to get there. Rarely is this possible. Often this approach sets us up for disappointment that things do not go as we had planned. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">Here's what Deepak Chopra said in the lesson today. (And if you are following this same meditation, I'm a couple of days behind <smile>.) </smile></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">"When we hold tightly to a goal, we often find it to be elusive. We may say to ourselves, “I want this so badly. I can see my goal. Why can’t I reach it?” The answer lies within the fine art and practice of detachment."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">"As we detach from the outcome of whatever we desire, we let go and gently surrender to the wisdom of uncertainty, which holds our freedom from the past, the known, and the limitations of any preconceived notions. In our willingness to step into the unknown, the field of all possibilities, we give ourselves over to the creative mind that orchestrates the dance of the universe, trusting that what we desire will come to us."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">Some of us have expectations and plans for a lovely holiday this week. We hope that Uncle Ron doesn't hit the wine too hard, that our mother-in-law will be a gracious guest, that the tension between family members is lessened, even for one day. We hope that all our loved ones will be well and happy, that the men are all strong, the women are good looking, and the children are above average (with a nod to G.Keillor). Detachment says, don't try to orchestrate this, just let it unfold as it will and love it for what it is. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="color: white;">There's our focus for the week, and weeks, ahead. It's about letting go of our own expectations to allow it to just happen. This is important stuff. Time to show up. </span></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-39575708832895201702013-11-23T07:10:00.000-08:002013-11-23T07:10:14.291-08:00Must Be Present to WinThis past week, a friend made an observation that was pretty powerful for me. I was told that I was "present."<br />
<br />
What exactly does that mean? It can mean being readily available, in the moment, not thinking of the past or the future, open to whatever comes next.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzOnGpzuWo_BGB98Nhz9mF-kN10Him0xXmEyDmePwK-Nfh98dtDva99dJkEpKRBNQ_A2iYpRh4NtAPBZRuAS7MfYv1Zyrc0ds60-_35VymlAgAQ_704eZIUEXSxndtg3EUjM8VH2fV-g/s1600/433b8fc91ec978c6008fc67c7a6c81d9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTzOnGpzuWo_BGB98Nhz9mF-kN10Him0xXmEyDmePwK-Nfh98dtDva99dJkEpKRBNQ_A2iYpRh4NtAPBZRuAS7MfYv1Zyrc0ds60-_35VymlAgAQ_704eZIUEXSxndtg3EUjM8VH2fV-g/s1600/433b8fc91ec978c6008fc67c7a6c81d9.jpg" height="255" width="320" /></a>One of my best skills has been to leverage the power of the self-fulfilling prophecy. If you believe you can do it, you can. If you want it, you can work for it. There's no such thing as luck, but making it happen. Taken to extreme, this can be seen as controlling or even manipulation. For me, it has been my way of getting things accomplished.<br />
<br />
However...<br />
<br />
I've been working at being present these days and for me, that's no small feat. This requires a willingness to be open to opportunities as they present themselves rather than focusing on my personal agenda. It requires letting go, of being detached to an outcome, and that involves trust that things will work out for the best. For me, this spells out as vulnerability, which when chosen intentionally takes a great deal of inner strength. (Dr. Brene Brown has a lot to say on that subject.)<br />
<br />
I have come to realize that my willing things to happen, making things happen, and yes, forcing things to happen, has been an effective defense mechanism that has provided a very false sense of security. This approach has not entirely served me well because crappy things still happen and the adage, "Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it" rings very true.<br />
<br />
I'm not saying that working hard for goals and going for what we want in life is wrong. Far from it. Motivation and hard work is the sweat equity we put into what we achieve in life. Nothing is handed to us and doing what it takes to make it happen is important.<br />
<br />
But there is a balance, like everything else. When I focus with laser-like intensity on my own agenda and I don't allow myself to be present to possibilities, I am viewing the world through the peephole on my front door and keeping the door closed.<br />
<br />
Being present is also being mindful of the little everyday miracles that life provides. The beautiful frost on the window this morning. The warmth of my little house. The comforting smell of brewed coffee. <br />
<br />
<br />
Being present is a gift. If you are struggling with finding something to be grateful for in this week of gratitude, see where you can open yourself to the possibilities that surround you. You may be very surprised by what you find when you allow yourself to just be.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-33329831605194264032013-11-16T06:32:00.000-08:002013-11-16T06:36:00.372-08:00Super PowersIt's that time of year. The full court press to New Year's Day is truly underway and to me, it just seems to add a layer, a heavy sodden woolen blanket, on top of the usual everyday march through The List of Things to Do.<br />
<br />
Reflecting back on the week that was, I continue to be struck by this notion of my own super powers. Granted, sometimes, super powers are truly needed. This week good people of the beautiful City by the Bay where I think my whole family left its collective heart this summer, truly did not disappoint. When the going gets tough, the tough turn out to play with a darling five-year-old boy named Miles who wanted to be a superhero.<br />
<br />
Didn't see the tape? Oh, my. Stop everything and do so right now. <a href="http://abcnews.go.com/US/batkids-make-transforming-san-francisco-gotham/story?id=20899254" target="_blank">Here's just one of a million links</a>.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5b-b1rsycazVv3kqUtrCcsfTqda55jsf68R4SG7xAMPBdKOx1rTNiszBWGSpeFpbeAefuHdyUmRDvcriv9jAufwUWswpCuweHuKfWWk40VxVmtk9WjBl1LIuQ8vI_CRYb8EguVKAvvm8/s1600/san-francisco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5b-b1rsycazVv3kqUtrCcsfTqda55jsf68R4SG7xAMPBdKOx1rTNiszBWGSpeFpbeAefuHdyUmRDvcriv9jAufwUWswpCuweHuKfWWk40VxVmtk9WjBl1LIuQ8vI_CRYb8EguVKAvvm8/s1600/san-francisco.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></div>
Honestly, I think he avenged evil simply by being adorably cute. <br />
<br />
The SFPD Commissioner deserves an Oscar, no doubt, and even the President of the United States PLAYED along with Miles on Friday afternoon along with thousands of his neighbors. Incredible.<br />
<br />
Thing is, this little guy has been a superhero all along. And yesterday, everyone who played along became one, too.<br />
<br />
You have superpowers of your own. You know that, right? It may not be as extravagant as what Make a Wish pulled off yesterday - but even small acts of kindness delivered in the right way can have enormous influence. Let Miles and all his playmates inspire us to realize that we each can make a difference in someone's life every single day. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-16294928689352514002013-11-11T12:19:00.000-08:002013-11-11T12:19:22.950-08:00The world will keep turning. Must remember that. Oh, crud.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maybe there needs to be chocolate chip cookies?</td></tr>
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It is a Monday in mid-November. Remembrance Day/Veterans Day, to be exact, and I am feeling unwell. Fighting off a sinus headache and general malaise while drinking ginger lemon tea with <br />
honey and watching snowflakes the size of quarters rain down is just not what I had in store for today. And it was such a fun weekend, too!<br />
<br />
"Glass half empty" days are gratefully few and far between for me so when I do feel cruddy and unsettled by some physical ailment, I know that I will push myself through it as quickly as I can. It is a chink in my armor. When I am not feeling well, I tend to question all kinds of silly things and contribute to the half-empty outlook. <br />
<br />
It is hard for me to realize that the world will keep on turning if I take a day of rest. I know, I go on and on about how important it is for us to take care of ourselves, but geesh, it is hard to actually DO it at times when you don't want to, isn't it?<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-55215779099137619612013-11-03T07:10:00.000-08:002013-11-03T07:10:22.018-08:00RemembranceMany Christian traditions celebrate All Saints Day on the first Sunday of November. Some saints live among us today and some have gone before us.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCy36mqlNdVtcckRQbrbw306y9ryo2-pDQreY5YhKzgnZRrjsB4pDXZDQgjUoJY3fncb62bGfJVSabXaccY6LPUj0N6salOWR35Jtw7sGazXVcpXHJOKUa5Owy5BT2V606MGJ9B9tnlE/s1600/Julian-of-Norwich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCy36mqlNdVtcckRQbrbw306y9ryo2-pDQreY5YhKzgnZRrjsB4pDXZDQgjUoJY3fncb62bGfJVSabXaccY6LPUj0N6salOWR35Jtw7sGazXVcpXHJOKUa5Owy5BT2V606MGJ9B9tnlE/s1600/Julian-of-Norwich.jpg" height="200" width="155" /></a><br />
I have Julian of Norwich on my mind today and her reassurance that "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing, shall be well." It is a mantra for me to resist the temptation to worry, a truly useless activity.<br />
<br />
From neighbors and teachers, to co-workers and friends, we all know someone whose life and the way it touches ours is worthy of remembering and honoring.<br />
<br />
Who will you honor or remember today?<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-39790145015496642652013-10-26T06:19:00.000-07:002013-10-26T06:19:48.139-07:00<h3>
Reduced to Joy</h3>
I was sipping coffee on the way to work,<br />
the back road under a canopy of maples<br />
turning orange. In the dip of woods, a small<br />
doe gently leaping. I pulled over, for there<br />
was no where else to go. She paused as if<br />
she knew I was watching. A few orange<br />
leaves fell around her like blessings no<br />
one can seem to find. I sipped some <br />
coffee, completely at peace, knowing <br />
it wouldn't last. But that's alright.
<br /><br />
We never know when we will blossom <br />
into what we’re supposed to be. It might <br />
be early. It might be late. It might be after <br />
thirty years of failing at a misguided way. <br />
Or the very first time we dare to shed <br />
our mental skin and touch the world.
<br /><br />
They say, if real enough, some see God<br />
at the moment of their death. But isn't<br />
every fall and letting go a death? Isn't God<br />
waiting right now in the chill between the <br />
small doe's hoof and those fallen leaves?
<br /><i> — Mark Nepo</i><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maytag Park, Newton, Iowa</td></tr>
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<br />
Everything is in transition, even when it may feel like we are stuck or lost. This is why it is so important to pay attention. To pause and appreciate the moments as they pass by. This is your life, right now, in this moment, not something that you are searching for. Pause. Appreciate. Live. <i> </i>
<br />
<br /><a href="http://www.oprah.com/spirit/Mark-Nepo-Poems--Reduced-to-Joy-Book/6#ixzz2ipi261es" style="color: #003399;"></a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-24242546938940881722013-10-19T05:20:00.000-07:002013-10-19T05:21:23.119-07:00What Makes You The Person You Are Today?For a jillion years, I've watched ol' Dave Letterman come up with his Top Ten lists. In the dorm, my friend Betsy and I would have a lite beer and eat saltines with peanut butter and watch Dave after an evening of studying and laundry. A friend encouraged me to think about creating a top ten list of my own. But what would it be? Favorite books and authors? Favorite music? Best ideas for a second date? My bucket list of travel places?<br />
<br />
As I thought about the theme of my top ten list, I was cleaning up my house. A total stranger walking into my home would instantly know that I have teenagers by the stuff in the room. J-14 magazines, X-Box controllers, school-issued mac books lying around, backpacks and earbuds, wild tie-dyed socks... it used to be small and sturdy board books, crayons and paper, dolls and stuffed animals...<br />
<br />
Into the teen years, my kids are working on figuring out who they are as individuals - all the while society, their friends, classmates, and popular culture are having an influence on who the adult version of themselves will be. And it got me thinking, what were the influences in my life that made me the adult I am today? Think beyond the "givens" of your parents, your school, teachers...we can all claim those. Dig a little deeper into stuff others may not think of when they see you.<br />
<br />
In no particular order whatsoever... (Typical.)<br />
<ul>
<li>Watergate. I was in the third grade, the time when kids begin to recognize the influences of government, their sense of fairness and how people in positions of authority treat others. I think it sparked an interest in government and politics that led me to study political science and history in college. Kinda proud that my kids had a "West Wing" marathon on Netflix this summer. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Monty Python (The boys still dig that I am nerdy in this way.)</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>My friends who lived in my town and went to my school. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>My friends who lived at least 100 miles away and we only met at church retreats and camps and through hours of long-distance phone calls and 20-page handwritten letters. Still my closest and dearest sister friends. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Public television, particularly Masterpiece Theater and Mystery - without which I might not have been interested in going on a Thomas Hardy jag and reading some of the most depressing novels ever written. They are amazing stories and slices of history. Classic novels, for me, are pretty extraordinary. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Garrison Keillor's "Lake Woebegon" monologues that glorified my growing up in a Swedish-American family on the edge of the prairie.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>My stepdad Phil who taught me how to be an excellent spectator of sports and how to understand football and basketball. It has paid off in spades with a lifelong personal interest as well as being able to share this with my teenage son. I'm the one who is bursting with pride to take my kids to games at my alma mater and it is a tradition that Phil would have dearly loved to see continue. I think of him every time John and I walk through the opening into Kinnick. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Opportunities to travel as a kid and to leave my community where I was raised in The Time Before the Internet. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>My church. Yeah, I know I mentioned this before, but being raised in a denomination that fostered thinking as well as faith, gave me the tools to walk my own spiritual path without judging others' paths, and to have a community that truly gave a damn about people beyond themselves was deeply influential for me. When I left my little rural town on my own without my parents for the first time, it was 1979. I went on a trip with a bunch of teenagers to the national convention of our denomination. Our denomination made big news by being the first mainline denomination to ordain an openly gay man. As a teenager, my friends and I didn't grasp The Big Deal of it all because most of us had been raised that this was not an abomination much less a sin. I am deeply grateful for being raised in a church and a wider church that preached God's extravagant love to all, without any strings attached. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>My college experience at the University of Iowa from 1982 to 1986 had a profound influence in my life. I suspect that is true for most people. It is typically our time to find our true selves and I know that I did. My friends at that stage of my life were about the best and most eccentric group of interesting and amazing people I could have never hand-picked. I am grateful for the oddity of Facebook that has reconnected me with many of them. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>A sense of being a Midwesterner. With our easy going attitudes, we are well known for our sincere concern for others. When I travel or meet people from other regions of the US or other countries, they remark on my "niceness." It even impacted one of my earliest jobs. "You are too nice to be in politics," I was once told by a DC campaign consultant. I took that as a genuine compliment. Interestingly, I worked for Republicans at that time.</li>
</ul>
As I think about these things that had a tremendous influence on shaping my life today, I wonder what my kids' lists will look like. What are the experiences and people and memories they are making right now that will influence who they are becoming? What about you? What is on your list of top influences in your life that have brought you to where you are today? Something you might enjoy thinking about.<br />
<br />
Just a word for my dear lifelong buddy Matt - Bill Bryson is YOUR author. Go pick out something he's written - for you, I'd suggest "The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid" and I swear you will laugh out loud throughout the entire novel. My personal favorite is "Notes from a Small Island" about his first experiences in England. You will often find his work in the travel section. I honestly laugh until I am weeping. And who doesn't need more of that?<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-61577284204880299442013-10-17T05:09:00.002-07:002013-10-17T05:09:48.691-07:00Excuse me, I have one nerve left and you are sitting on it!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIb1pQAhJCY2CSBjKcrenpbiP22BMo32XA271E9_dTBdTt7OT-VwStYBRljhtuTIvT5GKRHSijCCMcayowj4eTCrcp1QS_35euqRvSM6WRaoax6E9J-_tbopSgNJkeXMe7RnfCqvz7NAU/s1600/acbc8afd880a93a1be1c785311b12c7c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIb1pQAhJCY2CSBjKcrenpbiP22BMo32XA271E9_dTBdTt7OT-VwStYBRljhtuTIvT5GKRHSijCCMcayowj4eTCrcp1QS_35euqRvSM6WRaoax6E9J-_tbopSgNJkeXMe7RnfCqvz7NAU/s1600/acbc8afd880a93a1be1c785311b12c7c.jpg" /></a>Sharp and shooting, pinchy, seize-up and unexpected pain went shooting through my right sit bones this weekend and I finally put together the tender lower backache of the past couple of weeks combined with lots of car time, time sitting on bleachers, time sitting in conferences, complete blow-off of my fitness regimen created a painful siege on my sciatic nerve.<br />
<br />
Armed with ibuprofen, a heating pad, ThermaCare wraps, advice from my acupuncturist, my massage therapist, and one of my best friends, I have faced the realization that once again, I have pushed myself beyond healthy limits.<br />
<br />
Anyone else guilty of this?<br />
<br />
Thought so.<br />
<br />
Deep in the trenches of everyday life, it doesn't seem like a big deal to not have time in the day to get in the fitness center regularly. Until you find that you don't have energy or desire to even take a walk.<br />
<br />
Often we don't see warning signs until we look in the rearview and realize that we could see an injury or illness coming but do nothing about it until we reach the point of pain or bedrest. And this applies to emotional injury, too. It's easy to get attached to the outcome we want to achieve only to set ourselves up for disappointment.<br />
<br />
Pause for a moment right now. Take a little scan of your body and soul. Where are the places today that need a little extra care and attention? Honor these, as my yogini would say, and provide that TLC that you need. It's Thursday. You can see the weekend from here. Put a flower on your desk. Write a letter to a friend or your aunt in Florida. Take a walk at lunch. Little things, to be sure, but they can prevent bigger issues ahead.<br />
<br />
Take care of you. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-30816702373424408492013-10-06T05:37:00.000-07:002013-10-06T05:37:40.120-07:00Try to see it my way<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
Yesterday was a wonderful fall getaway day. Out of the house for nearly 12 hours, my 15 year old son and I headed to the University of Iowa for Homecoming. 77,000 people in and around the football stadium created a small city within a city, nearly ten times the population of the town where we live. There's no such thing as 'personal space' when you shuffle your way through the corridors of a football stadium, or practically sit on the lap of the person next to you. It's just how it is and if crowds are an issue and lack of personal space gives you the vapors, you know that you either suck it up or stay home. I'm ok with togetherness for a while. Not sure I could plunge into that crowd every single home game, but a couple of times a year, I am energized by our collective energy focused on one thing.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTw2iBYGP2fNLTe9-eFiWLbkUb2rkHTM1ry81-EztTNiuPegq62NgR97lYuRPI97qcL-Ib83I_KOe67HLiJyTUTXwb4T0ZW97g1apnFc4pdkgoZlXQmIMON6e6l__bWYbRLuzH2hBxpts/s1600/1005131102.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTw2iBYGP2fNLTe9-eFiWLbkUb2rkHTM1ry81-EztTNiuPegq62NgR97lYuRPI97qcL-Ib83I_KOe67HLiJyTUTXwb4T0ZW97g1apnFc4pdkgoZlXQmIMON6e6l__bWYbRLuzH2hBxpts/s1600/1005131102.jpg" /></a><br />
Looking at the crowd, nearly all decked in our school colors of black and gold, it strikes me that these people agree on one thing and they are passionately committed to following a particular football team. Something that unites us at a time when we as a nation seem to focus with laser-like clarity on our differences. And even beyond that, there were others in the stadium cheering for their team to defeat our beloved Hawkeyes. But everyone's heart swelled with the playing of our National Anthem. What unites us is far greater than what divides us.<br />
<br />
Perhaps a suggestion would be for us to shift our perspective a little to open our minds to understanding why another may hold views different from our own. What would it do if we were to attempt with an open mind to see why others disagree with us? Instead of trying to change another's opinion, what if we try to understand their point of view instead of judging them for it? We can still agree to disagree, but we might get closer to respecting differences instead of chastising.<br />
<br />
I will be the first to admit that this is not an easy task. But I also know that shouting at each other will not change anyone's opinions, it only serves to entrench each side to their own viewpoint all the more strongly and we grind further and further apart. <br />
<br />
What else in your life would benefit from a change of perspective? What if you found something to appreciate about every person you encounter through the day? Yes, even those who may challenge your peace of mind. Especially them. You get back from the universe what you put out there. If respect is what you seek from others, then you must find a way to respect something about them. It could even be something as small as their choice of coffee or the bike they ride to work. It takes some doing, but what you receive in return is a whole lot less stress and who doesn't want that? <br />
<br />
"If you want the best the world has to offer, offer the world your best." - Neale Donald Walsch<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-74207026499534277562013-09-18T03:56:00.000-07:002013-09-18T03:56:50.976-07:00Sugar Coated, with SprinklesI've been lamenting the lack of a roadmap through the middle of life lately. You can read about it here: <i><b><a href="https://www.blogger.com/%28http://viewfromtheiowaporch.blogspot.com/2013/09/wheres-your-roadmap-leading-you.html" target="_blank">(Where's Your Roadmap Leading You?</a>)</b></i><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQJGJvKdtzySiy93ZcbjgaQlQoSt2K7XhZphDioh-pILHPvE45QA3iEQg8tVFbzUVwBgQYb-ajopEIWxPhKF87Lbgh45g05Hm6GYkABESHj1XNQsOU7HWmSLrej0voZoSt6pP5xy-uzY/s1600/candy_land_mb_game_board_closeup3.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQJGJvKdtzySiy93ZcbjgaQlQoSt2K7XhZphDioh-pILHPvE45QA3iEQg8tVFbzUVwBgQYb-ajopEIWxPhKF87Lbgh45g05Hm6GYkABESHj1XNQsOU7HWmSLrej0voZoSt6pP5xy-uzY/s1600/candy_land_mb_game_board_closeup3.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a>In
all honesty, my original roadmap probably looked more like the
journey through Candy Land, all sugar-coated with sprinkles. The pair
look like Dick and Jane as they skip along the brightly colored squares
and they live happily
ever after in the Gumdrop Mountains subdivision. <br />
<br />
I was
an awfully long way into Candy Land, up near the Ice Cream Floats and
Peppermint Stick Forest before I realized that I had taken a wrong turn
somewhere because I was passing the road signs for The Big Ds -
Disappointment, Disillusionment, and Depression. I was lost.<br />
<br />
Really? This is not my life. It's supposed to be sunshine on the Rainbow Trail.<br />
<br />
Over time, I began to retrace my steps and in the process of doing so, I found myself again.<br />
<br />
You
see, what I've learned is that our true selves, our souls, never
change, never fade. They are always within us completely whole and
radiant. And while I may be feeling lost without a roadmap for midlife,
the truth is, the roadmap I thought I had was a child's game. We may have plans and hopes and aspirations, but life takes us in directions we never imagined before. This week marks my eighth year in moving to Grinnell. This was most certainly not on my roadmap or radar, but often times the surprises that life presents are greater than anything we could plan.<br />
<br />
Just last evening, a friend of mine who is also "new" to Grinnell was sharing with me how she and her husband think about all the places where they've lived and all the situations and events that brought them from one place to another. Life happens by opportunity, by chance more often than it does by design. <br />
<br />
Coming to Grinnell and leaving my hometown, my life, my friends, was not easy for our family. We were truly uprooted and it took a toll on us. We were in a difficult place before we moved and this was magnified when we moved. I had given up on the notion that there was a Happily Ever After. I lost and buried my
radiant self so deeply, I started to sleepwalk through my life.<br />
<br />
But over time, new friends, old friends, began to unearth my true self. They saw my radiant light that I thought had gone out. The
thing about our true selves is that when we uncover a little bit of it,
we want more. It feels right. Our intuition and our "gut" tell us
where we should go and if we trust it, we realize that we have been following that all along, not some predetermined way. When we trust that voice, that energy, it always
leads us in the right path. Our gut tells us when we've made the right
choice, when we speak our truth, when we set boundaries. A roadmap
through life often gives a false sense of security. But when we can rely on
our true selves and our inner compass to point us in the right
direction, we find that we may not end up where we thought we would, but
it's the right place.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-2454226303700941422013-09-15T13:39:00.000-07:002013-09-15T13:39:10.968-07:00An exercise in exorcism<i>Here is an exercise I have recently learned in exorcising a negative thought, belief, or emotion that has never served you well. Pick one. Fear seems to be a common thread - fear of success, fear of rejection, fear of Everything. Somewhere inside of you, there is at least one of these limiting beliefs that you need to break up with. Write it out. Recognize what is keeping you from living fully as the person you were created to be. I've noticed how friends of mine lately have been doing a pretty good job of listening to their limiting self-beliefs, standing in their own shadows, and not seeing just how truly extraordinary we all are. This feels pretty darned good, by the way... Here is the letter I wrote to one of my limiting beliefs. </i><br />
<br />
Dear "I Am Not Enough,"<br />
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<br />
The time has come for us to part ways. You have been a constant companion to me for a very long time and now, I must say goodbye. <br />
<br />
Ever since I can remember, you have been with me to ensure that I never felt like I completely measured up to a standard that was<br />
a)false,<br />
b)completely unattainable, and<br />
c) not designed for my unique self.<br />
<br />
I've hung around with you for nearly all of my life, and now, I must say goodbye. <br />
<br />
<br />
I want to thank you for motivating me to learn more about myself, to work hard on self-improvement, and to go within to help me search out ways of being my true self. I have found my true self now and no longer need your yardstick of measurement to tell me that I am not enough, because, I am most certainly more than enough.<br />
<br />
All the best,<br />
DooneAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-74730555323331564032013-09-08T07:14:00.001-07:002013-09-08T20:05:41.245-07:00Where's your roadmap leading you?A friend of mine had coffee with me yesterday. We first met a year or so ago in the modern way - on line - and enjoyed a morning of coffee and conversation on a crisp fall day. We stayed in touch through email and Facebook and decided that online friends should see each other in person at least once a year, so we had coffee in person yesterday, nearly a year later.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxoRBM_2YKkhz0A25CS68po2CIG_uvirIeMAWChFRBa2jyHW4HPm2NRtchWtk1SeqdWbk7X-VA4Dtfl06yY_gTp2nq-rSgIbsi-Nj2rIy-iotPfR8uc0D71x8CDdTm4nwiQIpR-enxnA/s1600/MP900448670.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxxoRBM_2YKkhz0A25CS68po2CIG_uvirIeMAWChFRBa2jyHW4HPm2NRtchWtk1SeqdWbk7X-VA4Dtfl06yY_gTp2nq-rSgIbsi-Nj2rIy-iotPfR8uc0D71x8CDdTm4nwiQIpR-enxnA/s1600/MP900448670.JPG" height="132" width="200" /></a>It was like we just picked up where we left off and talked about big picture things, life, relationships, and how we are navigating our journeys through the middle of life. <br />
<br />
And that is tricky way-finding, indeed.<br />
<br />
As he reminded me, there is a cultural road map laid out for us as we make our way through the first half of life. We graduate from high school, perhaps go to college, enlist, get a job, find a girl or guy to marry, have kids, and settle down with a mortgage and car payments. It's imprinted on us from a very early age. The expectation is that we will live happily ever-after.<br />
<br />
And blessedly, many do. Which makes it difficult for those of us who do not.<br />
<br />
When we have done all The Right Things and think that we have followed the prescribed road map to the letter and still long-term happiness is elusive or even impossible with that individual we first made vows with, it can shake us to our core.<br />
<br />
What's wrong with me? What if I never find another person to love? What if this is all there is? I'll die alone and they will know me at the store as the old lady with 45 cats who only buys tins of Little Friskies and half-gallon jugs of gin and Donut House coffee!<br />
<br />
And at middle age, many of us find that our roadmap to happiness brought us to very unfamiliar territory. How ever did I manage to find myself here? (Insert your location).<br />
<br />
At this point in life, there is no cultural road map, as my friend pointed out yesterday. Not only has there never really been one for middle age folks who find themselves single not necessarily by choice, but today, when it seems like all cultural norms for relationships are kinda up for discussion.<br />
<br />
Last week, my dear friend who is an interim pastor at my home church put out a note on the congregation's Facebook page that a couple that he and his late partner have known for ages were coming to Iowa because after 37 years together, they were now able to marry. Would he do the service for them? And John asked the congregation gathered there on Facebook if they would approve of this ceremony during Sunday's worship service?<br />
<br />
Within moments, the outpouring of love, joy, enthusiasm, offers of wedding cake, nuts, and mints, punch and colored napkins flooded the page. There was no question that of course, this faith community would welcome them and give these strangers in their midst the most glorious hospitality. I put myself into the couple's shoes and just wept for the joy of love. A rare and beautiful thing.<br />
<br />
See? Not only are we redefining (finally) culturally-accepted relationships but the church is meeting on Facebook and connected spiritually despite miles of geography. Roadmap? Uhm...GPS?<br />
<br />
"Our roadmaps for relationships of all kinds are changing, Laura," he said. "There is no road map for the second half of life."<br />
<br />
What makes it hard is that we have had what we thought was the roadmap to life and there isn't anything to guide us now. We are searching high and low for security when all we really have is this moment. Live for today, they say. We don't really get that until we arrive at this point in life. It's something that those of us traveling in the middle of life begin to recognize with a bit of fear and horror. <br />
<br />
Until we realize that if we simply enjoy the journey, without trying to dictate or focus on the outcome, we will enjoy the journey so much more. If we focus on what we want the outcome to be, we close ourselves off to any other possibilities that are obviously beyond what we can imagine for ourselves.<br />
<br />
My takeaways from this week:<br />
<ul>
<li>Stop projecting. You have no idea of what's about to happen next.</li>
<li>Go within to find security. Nothing outside of you can do that. Any kind of "security" found elsewhere can be eliminated in the briefest of moments. </li>
<li>Be open always. Grow and expand. Limit nothing. Live abundantly and simply. </li>
<li>Keurig Donut House Coffee is as addictive as any drug out there. </li>
</ul>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2542399345691017728.post-90660304955552972342013-08-17T05:29:00.000-07:002013-08-17T05:29:43.411-07:00Just the Way You AreOh, yes, I know, it's a tired song and one that I suspect even Mr. Joel would like to allow to retire gracefully, but its lyrics are resonating so strongly with me right now. He sounds so good<u><i><b> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WT4A2Ox6hRM" target="_blank">on this clip</a>. </b></i></u>Not a bad earworm for the day and I want you to sing it to yourself before you sing it to another. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWSo7-ki7EYyh3ds26xZccdm0mwrdUno8Y2inmUQ6MeLhgGhRL_IRg6oL4CnzMX3guOxmB95RLKpwQWi9B-bu0xx6ef77KAvw3f_rCN0XvhrhaTyjpqG-DwCco0UYkYCBrEO-NnTnSXHo/s1600/6bbd31300f3c37adb43b8e01103dae6b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWSo7-ki7EYyh3ds26xZccdm0mwrdUno8Y2inmUQ6MeLhgGhRL_IRg6oL4CnzMX3guOxmB95RLKpwQWi9B-bu0xx6ef77KAvw3f_rCN0XvhrhaTyjpqG-DwCco0UYkYCBrEO-NnTnSXHo/s1600/6bbd31300f3c37adb43b8e01103dae6b.jpg" /></a>In the frenetic pace of life, I often forget and it is such a relief to be reminded that I am enough, just the way I am. It is so wildly easy to attach our self-worth and value to someone or something outside of our own selves. We work for others' approval to validate us and that makes us needy, doesn't it? When we want others to measure our self-worth, we miss the point entirely. It certainly sounds like common sense in writing, but in reality, I have to work at reminding myself that the most difficult person and the most important person I need to impress and gain approval from, is me.<br />
<br />
Maybe this sounds familiar to you, too.<br />
<br />
If I am seeking love and approval from others, it doesn't fill that need for love in me, from me, does it? It's never enough because it's not what I ultimately need. If I try to fill that need externally, I might also turn to something like food, shopping, alcohol, (fill in the blank) to find that feeling that I am searching for.<br />
<br />
Like Dorothy, we have been wearing the ruby slippers all along. When we realize that we are enough just the way we are, we can fill the hole with self-respect, esteem, love, abundance, joy. Until we have it ourselves, we cannot give it away. And when we cannot give it away, it can't be returned to us. Get it?<br />
<br />
When we make changes in our lives because it is what is right for us, not what we think others want us to do, then we are living authentically.<br />
<br />
Find a way to believe this about yourself. "I am worthy and enough simply because I am."<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01498749452428210032noreply@blogger.com0