The Legacy of Holding Hands

My parents were hand holders. It always made me smile when I saw it. It was one of the first things people noticed about them.. More times than I can count I had friends call and say "I saw your parents. They were just walking along and holding hands. They are so cute." And they were. It was almost like a game of "I spy." "I spy the McKinneys holding hands. Again." We grew up seeing it, but I got so many of these calls I soon realized what a rarity it was. I loved it about them and what they taught us through this one gesture.

Mom and Dad were married 59 years and 11 months. On January 30, 2017, it would have been 60 years. They were engaged after three dates. Married after just one more. And not just a normal "get married and go on with your life" wedding. My 19-year old mom dropped out of nursing school in Newport, South Wales, packed her things, and got on a plane bound for the United States. She gave up her whole life there to join my dad in North Carolina for a small wedding at my grandparent's house, with only the pastor and his wife, and my dad's parents in attendance. No pictures, no fancy reception. She then moved with him to Massachusetts, where he worked full time and maintained a 3.8 grade point average in engineering school at Northeastern University there. Not an easy feat. Four out of the five of us kids were born there. More of a challenge.

As mom points out, leaving dad was never a practical option, so they had to work things out. Growing up we learned that in real life relationships you love, honor, and respect each other....but sometimes you also get angry. But you work it out. You don't hold grudges. You are always loyal.

If you had met my dad, you probably wouldn't have thought of him as a hand holder. He wasn't what you would consider  a romantic. Romantic gestures were not the norm. If left to his own devices  he would most likely buy my mom a gift on the level of a vacuum cleaner or a mixer. That may be a romantic gift to some, but not to my mother. Yet he could surprise you....on the occasions when he ended up buying her jewelry, he bought her beautiful things. He had wonderful taste. Well, except that time he listened to the opinion of someone else. That was not a good idea. I think he learned his lesson. The one piece of jewelry he bought mom that she never wore.

There was a certain level of emotion my dad just didn't possess. He was a classic engineer. Logic trumped all emotion. He could not care less about what anyone thought about him. This was on a level I have never encountered in another human being. It never occurred to him that it was any of his business or even something worth thinking about. I mentioned this to someone recently and they said that sounded like me. Oh....I so wish it was. It used to be a foreign concept, but I have learned from him in time. No, first I have to feel the pain, but then blessedly the logic I learned from dad now creeps in. Why should such a thing really matter to me? Unlike my dad the feelings are felt, but in my life I am blessed with plenty of love. I've learned, however, it doesn't have to come from everyone. I won't waste precious moments of my life worrying about it....instead I will enjoy and celebrate that which I do have. It is enough.

My cousin and I were talking when my dad was in the hospital about being raised by these McKinney men for whom the words "I love you" just weren't often said. Yet we never doubted their love. (So OK, there were those times growing up I knew my "real" royal family were going to come for me and take me away from my Cinderella life....but maybe the thought that I read too much during these years was correct after all.)

My dad was in the hospital since November 8.  Much of that time is heartbreaking. Some of it was full of great beauty. My mom lovingly feeding my dad vanilla ice cream underneath his oxygen mask after he had what would only be his first surgery that day. (He savored each bite. I am so glad...vanilla ice cream was his favorite and it was his last real food.) Mom sitting in a chair next to dad's bed, holding his hand as she slept with her head on his bed. Each of his children, and many of his grandchildren, kissing his cheek and reaching for his hand as they visited with him. Him squeezing back. Until he couldn't. Then us just squeezing extra.

I had several friends who during these last days advised me to make sure I told dad I loved him. Does it sound weird that I didn't find that to be important? I never have doubted, never will doubt, that he knew. Oh, this man of logic knew. It wasn't because of us saying the words (because as I said before, those didn't matter to him). It wasn't because of my ability to be the best daughter (because he really didn't require much from me as his daughter....and we all know I was his favorite anyway.). It wasn't because of gifts I gave him.....I realized years ago he took no pleasure in gifts and it was a kindness not to make him open things and appear grateful. It was a burden to him and not a pleasure. No....these typical things others may need were not a bit necessary for him.

I was part of this man.....and him part of me. He knew I loved him just because I did. Would we all have liked more days together? Certainly. Are there more things I wish I'd either had him tell me about or I wish I had listened closer to? Oh yes. But my logical dad wouldn't comprehend wasting time on regrets. He accepted what was. I will do the same.

When we first moved my dad to the Hospiçe House last Friday, and I reached for his hand, it was cold. It was a bit disconcerting. Later that night the radiating warmth returned. The last time I saw him on Saturday afternoon I held that warm hand for what would be the last time. As he and mom taught us, that's what matters.  These McKinneys are hand holders. We are forever unified. He is a part of who I am and forever I'll feel the warmth of his hand in mine. No regrets understood or allowed. I loved him and was loved by him. That will never end. I am grateful for the gift.

The Grouchy One

Thanksgiving 2015

On this Thanksgiving my dad has been in the ICU at Baptist Hospital for 16 days. Our life is wrapped around that right now, the majority of out time spent either in the Coronary Intensive Care Unit (CICU), working, or preparing for our next shift. My siblings and I have a running IM full of reports on our dad....and our mom, whose battle is probably even tougher than dad's right now since he spends at least part of his day drugged.

Our time at the CICU is mostly spent in the waiting room. They don't make the CICU patient rooms very comfortable for long family stays. There is one chair in there, far away from the bed. The nurses work almost non-stop, and if you are in there too long you feel like you may be getting in their way. 

The CICU waiting room isn't very comfortable either. You aren't supposed to move the furniture, a sign says, because it inconveniences the housekeeping staff. We ignore that. They are not amused that some people (OK...me) take that sign lightly. Those who have been there a while do try to move things back around 8, when they arrive to throw us out to clean for 30 minutes.

The chairs are hard, and mostly attached in sets of three. Having slept in one the first night I was there, well the first night that dad wasn't in surgery so I felt I could sleep, I can assure you that even I who can sleep almost anywhere was quite aware of the discomfort.

But we learned from the family who has been there five days longer than we have been (today marked three full weeks for them....their father/dad just came in for back surgery and was supposed to be home in five days) and as time went by we grabbed a corner....with precious outlets so we can charge our devices...and have made it our home away from home. My brother Scott took a cue from our CICU friends and bought a cot. I have slept in that about as much as my own bed lately. My sister Dana brought a bag of snacks and quarters and a travel Scrabble board. Other friends and family have added to the snack stash.

You bond quickly in the CICU. We listen to each other's stories....some of us getting updates once or twice a day. We look for those who don't camp out like we do, but spent time there during their surgeries, because we want to have updates on their loved ones. For the most part, there is an incredible sense of kindness and caring. We're all in a battle and our prayers and thoughts are not only of our own people, but of these sweet people we are meeting along the way.

And then there was last night. Thanksgiving Eve. A lady was there that looked vaguely familiar, but as I talked to one of the daughters in this family we now feel is our family, she was within earshot so I tried to include her in the conversation. She would not engage. My CICU friend had tried to turn down the TV a few minutes before and the lady had gotten very huffy about it. She hadn't been looking at it or seemed to have been engaged with it at all. She didn't give a reason....just seemed very upset with my friend for turning the sound down. My friend tried to compensate and turned the sound back up and handed the remote to the lady. That didn't make her happy either.

I set up my cot for the night and a lady and her son who are also in our little CICU round-the-clock waiting room family came in. The son was setting up his mother's cot for the night (they bought one for her after she used ours one night when my non-sleeping brother was spending the night and my mom had watched her falling asleep in a chair with her head on her son's shoulder and offered up our cot for the night.) Their "family camp" is in front of the TV set, so (once again) since no one appeared to be watching she started to turn it off. The grouchy one (once again) began to voice her displeasure. The son saw a place near me that would work and quietly moved his mother's cot over there. We exchanged a look of raised eyebrows about this grouchy woman. His sweet mom kept trying to engage with the lady. She finally made some headway and listened to her story.

I was far enough away that I could not hear the conversation. Eventually the TV sound was quieted and the TV left on. I got up in the middle of the night to check on dad when all were asleep, and turned it off. The grumpy one did not awake....amazing since she was sleeping upright in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

But this morning, Thanksgiving, as everyone in the waiting room arose (around 6 a.m.) and I came back after looking in on my dad (who had an uneventful night....thank goodness), the lady was in the waiting room by herself. I tried to engage her in conversation again and this time it worked. We started talking. All of a sudden it dawned on me who she was. This was Larry's sister-in-law. Larry, the sweet man our family had also gotten to know sitting in that waiting room. He had come in the Sunday after our Tuesday. His wife had heart surgery. This sister-in-law was with him that day. I bonded with Larry when his wife was in surgery that day. Our whole family did. He lived in Newton, not far from us. His wife was in surgery far longer than the five hours that was anticipated. When I left that night she was still in surgery. When I came back on that Tuesday, they were keeping her sedated because they had been unable to close because of the swelling. Then she underwent another five-hour surgery to close. Every time I have seen him since, the same story. His wife had still not woken up after the surgery. 

Today marks what....12 days? Twelve days since the grouchy one has gotten to talk to her sister. Twelve days of worrying whether she will ever talk to her again. As sick as my dad has been, we have been able to talk with him every day. That's hard in itself, when he is on a vent and can't talk back....but we can say words of encouragement and words of love. I can tell him what is going on and attempt to let him in on what is happening around him at a time he feels very much out of control. I can feel the pain and frustration and while I can't take it away, he can see in our eyes that we know how hard this all is for him, but we need him to fight to come home. We recognize it is a privilege to even be able to communicate with him....and for that we are most thankful.

My feelings changed about the grouchy one, who feels so much is out of her control. She loves her sister....that was so evident as I talked with her. She loves her brother-in-law...though I suspect she may be the type that shows it more by acts of service that she performs with a bit of a martyr-like air, than saying the words. As I talked with her I found that she always is in service to her family....she told Larry she could stay at the hospital until Monday, as long as she was home to pick up her granddaughter at school. He had a difficult time staying at the hospital....and this is something like 23 hospital stays for his wife at Baptist over the years. The grouchy one allows him to stay home and watch over their little dog. I suspect she takes very little time for herself. That's how she loves. Even when it is very uncomfortable and inconvenient for her. She puts herself out there for other people. She is a servant. Even if sometimes a grouchy one.

Happy Thanksgiving to those who work at all kinds of jobs today, whether you do them with thanksgiving or not. The amazing staff at Baptist Hospital and at hospitals all around the country. The policemen I saw this morning and that I know that are working all over the place, with their firefighter and EMS brothers and sisters. My friend Joanie deployed in Kuwait. The lady at Hardee's that cheerfully handed me my biscuit and when I thanked her for working on Thanksgiving she said she was not missing out on anything but the cooking! The folks at the Dollar Store that allowed me to pick up the soap my mom wanted (and allowed me to avoid trying to do it tomorrow in Black Friday Madness!) The people at BiLo who worked so I could finally get groceries, after not having either the time or energy to do it these past few weeks. You may be horrified I took advantage of these places being open today....but I am thankful they were. They met my needs of the day and I am grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours....those with picture perfect Thanksgivings and those who are giving thanks through tears or family feuds or less than ideal circumstances. A special wish for peace for the grouchy ones. I hope you are noticed today for all that you are and you are able to be thankful.

Life is not always wrapped with a bow. It's complicated. But when we are thankful for what we have, and are not distracted by what we don't have, we open ourselves up for joy to grow. God has given us great gifts. Even in the CICU. Let us be thankful. If you find you are one of the grouchy ones, it's OK. Sometimes your load is heavy and you hold onto it too tightly. Release those hands a bit. Look for those who will share it. Remember all of the things in life that God has brought you through and to. Inhale and breathe life. That's when thanksgiving happens.

The Grouchy One

U

Thanksgiving 2015

On this Thanksgiving my dad has been in the ICU at Baptist Hospital for 16 days. Our life is wrapped around that right now, the majority of our time spent either in the Coronary Intensive Care Unit (CICU), working, or preparing for our next shift. My siblings and I have a running IM full of reports on our dad....and our mom, whose battle is probably even tougher than dad's right now since he spends at least part of his day drugged.

Our time at the CICU is mostly spent in the waiting room. They don't make the CICU patient rooms very comfortable for long family stays. There is one chair in there, far away from the bed. The nurses work almost non-stop, and if you are in there too long you feel like you may be getting in their way. 

The CICU waiting room isn't very comfortable either. You aren't supposed to move the furniture, a sign says, because it inconveniences the housekeeping staff. We ignore that. They are not amused that some people (OK...me) take that sign lightly. Those who have been there a while do try to move things back around 8, when they arrive to throw us out to clean for 30 minutes.

The chairs are hard, and mostly attached in sets of three. Having slept in one the first night I was there, well the first night that dad wasn't in surgery so I felt I could sleep, I can assure you that even I who can sleep almost anywhere was quite aware of the discomfort.

But we learned from the family who has been there five days longer than we have been (today marked three full weeks for them....their father/dad just came in for back surgery and was supposed to be home in five days) and as time went by we grabbed a corner....with precious outlets so we can charge our devices...and have made it our home away from home. My brother Scott took a cue from our CICU friends and bought a cot. I have slept in that about as much as my own bed lately. My sister Dana brought a bag of snacks and quarters and a travel Scrabble board. Other friends and family have added to the snack stash.

You bond quickly in the CICU. We listen to each other's stories....some of us getting updates once or twice a day. We look for those who don't camp out like we do, but spent time there during their surgeries, because we want to have updates on their loved ones. For the most part, there is an incredible sense of kindness and caring. We're all in a battle and our prayers and thoughts are not only of our own people, but of these sweet people we are meeting along the way.

And then there was last night. Thanksgiving Eve. A lady was there that looked vaguely familiar, and as I talked to one of the daughters in this family we now feel is our family, she was within earshot so I tried to include her in the conversation. She would not engage. My CICU friend had tried to turn down the TV a few minutes before and the lady had gotten very huffy about it. She hadn't been looking at it or seemed to have been engaged with it at all. She didn't give a reason....just seemed very upset with my friend for turning the sound down. My friend tried to compensate and turned the sound back up and handed the remote to the lady. That didn't make her happy either.

I set up my cot for the night and a lady and her son who are also in our little CICU round-the-clock waiting room family came in. The son was setting up his mother's cot for the night (they bought one for her after she used ours one night when my non-sleeping brother was spending the night and my mom had watched her falling asleep in a chair with her head on her son's shoulder and offered up our cot for the night.) Their "family camp" is in front of the TV set, so (once again) since no one appeared to be watching she started to turn it off. The grouchy one (once again) began to voice her displeasure. The son saw a place near me that would work and quietly moved his mother's cot over there. We exchanged a look of raised eyebrows about this grouchy woman. His sweet mom kept trying to engage with the lady. She finally made some headway and listened to her story.

I was far enough away that I could not hear the conversation. Eventually the TV sound was quieted and the TV left on. I got up in the middle of the night to check on dad when all were asleep, and turned it off. The grouchy one did not awake....amazing since she was sleeping upright in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

But this morning, Thanksgiving, as everyone in the waiting room arose (around 6 a.m.) and I came back after looking in on my dad (who had an uneventful night....thank goodness), the lady was in the waiting room by herself. I tried to engage her in conversation again and this time it worked. We started talking. All of a sudden it dawned on me who she was. This was Larry's sister-in-law. Larry, the sweet man our family had also gotten to know sitting in that waiting room. He had come in the Sunday after our Tuesday. His wife had heart surgery. This sister-in-law was with him that day. I bonded with Larry when his wife was in surgery that day. Our whole family did. He lived in Newton, not far from us. His wife was in surgery far longer than the five hours that was anticipated. When I left that night she was still in surgery. When I came back on that Tuesday, they were keeping her sedated because they had been unable to close because of the swelling. Then she underwent another five-hour surgery to close. Every time I have seen him since, the same story. His wife had still not woken up after the surgery. 

Today marks what....12 days? Twelve days since the grouchy one has gotten to talk to her sister. Twelve days of worrying whether she will ever talk to her again. As sick as my dad has been, we have been able to talk with him every day. That's hard in itself, when he is on a vent and can't talk back....but we can say words of encouragement and words of love. I can tell him what is going on and attempt to let him in on what is happening around him at a time he feels very much out of control. I can feel the pain and frustration and while I can't take it away, he can see in our eyes that we know how hard this all is for him, but we need him to fight to come home. We recognize it is a privilege to even be able to communicate with him....and for that we are most thankful.

My feelings changed about the grouchy one, who feels so much is out of her control. She loves her sister....that was so evident as I talked with her. She loves her brother-in-law...though I suspect she may be the type that shows it more by acts of service that she performs with a bit of a martyr-like air, than saying the words. As I talked with her I found that she always is in service to her family....she told Larry she could stay at the hospital until Monday, as long as she was home to pick up her granddaughter at school. He had a difficult time staying at the hospital....and this is something like 23 hospital stays for his wife at Baptist over the years. The grouchy one allows him to stay home and watch over their little dog. I suspect she takes very little time for herself. That's how she loves. Even when it is very uncomfortable and inconvenient for her. She puts herself out there for other people. She is a servant. Even if sometimes a grouchy one.

Happy Thanksgiving to those who work at all kinds of jobs today, whether you do them with thanksgiving or not. The amazing staff at Baptist Hospital and at hospitals all around the country. The policemen I saw this morning and that I know that are working all over the place, with their firefighter and EMS brothers and sisters. My friend Joanie deployed in Kuwait. The lady at Hardee's that cheerfully handed me my biscuit and when I thanked her for working on Thanksgiving she said she was not missing out on anything but the cooking! The folks at the Dollar Store that allowed me to pick up the soap my mom wanted (and allowed me to avoid trying to do it tomorrow in Black Friday Madness!) The people at BiLo who worked so I could finally get groceries, after not having either the time or energy to do it these past few weeks. You may be horrified I took advantage of these places being open today....but I am thankful they were. They met my needs of the day and I am grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours....those with picture perfect Thanksgivings and those who are giving thanks through tears or family feuds or less than ideal circumstances. A special wish for peace for the grouchy ones. I hope you are noticed today for all that you are and you are able to be thankful.

Life is not always wrapped with a bow. It's complicated. But when we are thankful for what we have, and are not distracted by what we don't have, we open ourselves up for joy to grow. God has given us great gifts. Even in the CICU. Let us be thankful. If you find you are one of the grouchy ones, it's OK. Sometimes your load is heavy and you hold onto it too tightly. Release those hands a bit. Look for those who will share it. Remember all of the things in life that God has brought you through and to. Inhale and breathe life. That's when thanksgiving happens.

The Best of Times, The Worst of Times

So while most people see tomorrow as Election Day, in the McKinney family it is Dad's third surgery day in 2016. Tomorrow they take tumors from his lungs. Difficult stuff in general, but in the man who has had virtually no health problems until the last year it is tough for us all. Each diagnosis makes you want to stomp your feet and say "This isn't right!"

I have three friends who have just lost parents in the last couple of weeks (two in the last week). Earlier this year we lost two family members to suicide within a manner of months. I have friends and family members fighting cancer, depression, addictions, loss, and diseases that cause them to live in constant pain. All foot stomping worthy. It doesn't seem right.

But tomorrow is another day in our lives. While so many talk about the gloom and doom, in this...the year of the worst events in my life to date...on a day when I could choose to live in fear, I choose peace. Living peace is an action over which I have control. And I also choose joy, too. Whatever the circumstances, I choose to live peacefully and joyously. Why wouldn't I?

You can choose to live the precious moments of your life however you want, but are you really going to choose anger and bitterness and fear? I believe you are here for a reason. Why not instead excitedly anticipate what God will do with you these next four years? Build love. Practice obedience. Live with respect. God wants you to be more concerned about those things than any election or obsessing over any ruler. 

Even if you don't believe in God, isn't a choice to celebrate life better than to celebrate the woe that may never happen? Or maybe even celebrate in spite of woe? We've had a lot of presidents in my life, but none have ever robbed my joy. And as horrible as people have said each and every president has been (minor eyeroll), I have lived a great life throughout. I plan to continue. 

Regardless of the election results, I'll respect the leader of my country for their office and pray for their success, even if I haven't respected their human frailties and choices to date. When they are named president it is a new ballgame. They are my president.

But truly....while the election does interest me, tomorrow it is most important to me to see my dad come through his surgery with flying colors (it's at 7 a.m., if you care to pray.) . That will be my victory. Nothing is more important than that. I hope there is something more important than politics in your life, too. Hug and love on your people. They are what's important. Have you alienated a few folks in this political process? Get over it, restore the relationship, and bring back what's important. It's not politics.

I was reading a bit of Dickens the other day. Reminded me there is nothing new under the sun. 

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only." 

- from A Tale of Two Cities

There are a lot of highs and lows in life, but maybe everything isn't a superlative. How much significance will this election have on your life? Time will tell, but possibly little. I agonized a bit over voting (which seems silly to me now) but once I did I felt relief. Like a dreaded test, it was done and I would accept fate. I really don't care who wins. That is something I can easily deal with. My dad's surgery? That outcome matters. He's strong and I expect him to do well, but it is serious stuff...yet I am at peace. I will sleep tonight, and hopefully arise early enough to go to the hospital with them and wait as talented surgeons do their magic. And then we will coddle and nag and force him to do all that he needs to do to heal (we drive him crazy)...so we will all be able to enjoy his 84th birthday on November 17th. With peace. And joy. And love. And strength. That's the life I choose. That will be a good day.

Defying Gravity

This is one of those years that seems to bring one tough situation after another to deal with. I joked about the "tragedy of the week" for a while, until it seemed all the more true and I realized that inexplicably tragedies really were happening at least weekly. Not just  "X person was mean to me." Real stuff. Important stuff. Things that are imploding the world as I knew it. I'm tired of sadness. I'm tired of fear. I'm tired of all of the many things that I don't understand.

I still trust God and honestly I think the open and honest communication we have built over the years has been my best gift. I'm glad I wasn't taught that I could only go to God when I had on my Sunday best and was at my most appealing and presentable. I don't have a pretty faith. I have one that runs the gamut from fierce anger to the ugly cry to staggering humility to unspeakable joy. In other words, instead of pretty it's a real relationship. Instead of pretty it is a thing of beauty.

I've holed up a bit more than normal lately. That's what introverts do when they try to figure things out. It hasn't worked, except to remind me some things I will never understand. When I am around people, I find I am more impatient with them. People who are thoughtless. People who are unkind to anyone....strangers or those they are supposed to love. People who shut people out. People who think they know all. People who are full of self pity for dumb reasons. I feel like saying "Really? You're whining with all that you have? You're wasting life for that?" OK....maybe I have said it. But truthfully, I could have said it so much more.

I'm was trying to decide if I have been hasty to judgment with others. I know I have. I imagine there are times my behavior towards others reflects these very things I disdain. Probably why they bug me so much. Probably why I get frustrated with myself so much and am not sure why.

In the midst of the sadness and frustration and confusion of this year, I have not been blind to the joys. I am grateful for each and every one. They have not quite balanced the sorrow for me this year, but they have reminded me of how charmed my life has so often been. There have been far more joys than sorrows. And I do notice.....and appreciate.

There are more challenges ahead....this I already know. But I'm trying to avoid pity parties. They accomplish nothing. One thing I know for sure. You don't get presents at a pity party. Or you shouldn't. You'd only find they were in the wrong size, or the wrong color, or weren't what you wanted in the first place. But when you appreciate life, all of life, you find that one gift after another awaits. And they are perfect. Even in the midst of the worst of times. That's life. Things will at times be grave, but gravity will also be defied.

Laying on the Loyal

"What is a disloyal act? A person is disloyal if he treats you as a stranger when, in fact, he belongs to you as a friend or partner. Each of us is bound to some special others by the invisible fibers of loyalty." -Lewis B. Smedes

“Where the battle rages, there the loyalty of the soldier is proved.”– Martin Luther
“I have a loyalty that runs in my bloodstream, when I lock into someone or something, you can’t get me away from it because I commit that thoroughly. That’s in friendship, that’s a deal, that’s a commitment. Don’t give me paper – I can get the same lawyer who drew it up to break it. But if you shake my hand, that’s for life..” – Jerry Lewis

“Some people treat
loyalty as a lamp:
they think, they can
just switch it on/off
and believe,
you won't notice
the difference...” 

- Veronika Jensen

One of the things I have learned in life is to be on the lookout for loyalty. It's a hard thing to describe, really, but important you learn to recognize it when you do see it. And even more important, when you don't.

It's different than friendship, different than love, different than trust....still it must be a part of all three. I love the quote by Lewis Smedes above that describes the disloyal....the friend ("special other") who treats you as a stranger. When you see that, it's confusing. Learn to recognize it as an easy indication that they are not loyal to you. 

With true loyalty there are those invisible fibers that tie us together to "our person", our "special other", "our people". Whatever the circumstances, whoever may be around, wherever we may be....they are loyal to us and we are loyal to them. When outside forces can change the relationship, loyalty is absent.

When loyalty is in action, you are bound as tightly to that person when they are away from you as when you are in the same room. Those invisible fibers? They stretch and they never break. When you are loyal they mean that a part of "your person" is always with you....and you'll protect and defend them as though they are by your side. You won't allow their character to be maligned, won't allow lies about them to be spread. You hurt if someone says something hurtful about them and you glow with pride when someone recognizes their worth.

Oh, you don't have to engage with every small minded person who chooses to speak ill of them. Often that would achieve nothing. But when this happens a loyal person would never agree with that person....or make it appear that they align with them and their opinion. It's also usually a sign that it is time to leave the toxic cloud and move on. But if it is a situation where others around may get a wrong view of "your person" that hurts their reputation or how other people view them, loyal friends speak up.

Loyalty does not mean you agree with "your person" all of the time, or condone all of their behavior or agree with all of their opinions. It does means that you want the best for them, you want the truth to be told about them, and that you are invested in their success. A loyal friend will always be ready to help someone be their best and tells them their true thoughts and opinions. Loyalty never requires someone to embrace wrong or lie on someone's behalf. When that occurs, it's misplaced loyalty.

As Jerry Lewis said, loyal people do not require contracts. Their words are backed with their honor. Want a clue as to whether someone is loyal to you? Watch them closely. It always is revealed in their character, in how they live their lives. Especially when they think you're not looking. It usually doesn't require much effort to see their true colors....if they are disloyal to others, they will probably be disloyal to you. Loyalty strengthens as it is exercised. It certainly is most easily revealed when the battle rages, but also there are signs of it in peace. It is a choice, and usually is a life's commitment. 

Look for the "special others" who wear their loyalty well....and hold on tight. But make sure you are giving them the same gift. They deserve it. And if you expect loyalty in others, you need to be willing to exercise it yourself. Get strong. Our world could use more loyalty in action. It's a beautiful thing.

Really Not That Funny

So I was Facebooking and added a comment to something a friend had posted, when I suddenly stopped myself that split second before I hit "Post." Truly, it was a funny comment. On the surface. But all if a sudden I realized that it also was derogatory to that person. And it was based on something superficial.

The person my friend had posted about is a public figure and there was absolutely no chance they would ever see it...,or probably would even care if they did. They are used to that sort of thing and either have developed a thick skin, don't spend excessive time on social media, or are just enamored with the fact that people know who they are. We don't hang out in the same circles and there are many layers of separation between our friend groups ((to my knowledge....maybe some of you do know them and have been holding out on me.) 

That was all beside the point   The comment crossed the personal boundaries I have set for myself. I don't want to be funny if it is unkind to other people. What if someone said the same thing about someone I loved? My claws would come out! When I realize that, maybe it's best not said.

I love humor, as does most of my family, so we're all pretty quick with a quip. It was much appreciated as I was growing up. Our household was funny. Sometimes I can be so quick, the thought comes out before I think about it. While funny, sometimes the comment is not appropriate to the audience or the situation. Sometimes it is insulting or mean. Not that I in any way intend for it to be that way....it's all said for humor. I figure people know that, and should not be offended. But the reality is that sometimes people are offended. And hurt. Their surface reaction doesn't matter. Often they will not ever let on...because that would mean they are not a good sport. Or then people would know they were hurting.

I've been thinking a lot lately about what is funny and what is not. And what is appropriate and what is not. Oh, I do appreciate the inappropriate. Perhaps too often. That doesnt't make it right.

The public nature of social media adds to the issue. What we say and do can be easily spread. Once it is out there, it is difficult take back. It can move outside of our control. A weak "I didn't mean it that way" won't stop it nor will "That was said to certain people in a certain context and you have destroyed that by reducing it to a meme." Few care. Or maybe that makes it funnier to them.

Humor is often at the expense of humiliating someone. It's been around for ages and it makes most of us laugh. Humor that is done to watch the reaction of people in certain situations (think Candid Camera.) If it embarrasses that person, or could embarrass that person, is it really funny? So OK....probably yes. But is the humor worth the cost?

I get very uncomfortable with jokes that are based on certain stereotypes or prejudices. How do you react to jokes that are based on race or sexuality? How about weight or appearance? Or age or religion? I still haven't figured out the best way. Yeah, sometimes I get on soapbox, but is that helpful? It hasn't seemed to be. I come off as a humorless zealot. But silence....does that help either? Is just not laughing enough? I confess to most often trying to divert the topic or change the subject. Mostly it makes me feel uncomfortable. Sometimes this humor has wings and if allowed to fly reinforces our most evil sides for generations. It brings people down and doesn't build any of us up.

This struggle is not something that is going away for me any time soon. I still will find inappropriate things to be funny. My mouth will still go into overdrive and say something funny without thought of the ripples it can create. My heart tells me that kindness should trump humor...even though that hasn't fully made its way to all areas of my brain yet. I still think in those situations I should consider how I would feel if I, or someone that I love (especially those who are the sensitive types), were the subject.

One day I might find the balance. Or figure out when it matters. Until then, forgive me for my transgressions and feel free to hold me accountable. And ignore it when I roll my eyes. That is probably evidence of my issue and not yours.

If You Were To Go Missing

It was one of those silly Facebook quizzes. "WHAT WOULD YOUR FRIENDS DO IF YOU WERE TO GO MISSING?" My friend Patsy did the quiz and next to my picture it said "Kim would cry helplessly."

So OK....I didn't find it amusing. Yes I got mad at a Facebook quiz. I think perhaps I took it a bit more seriously than intended. But my whole self screamed "Oh no, Kim wouldn't!!!!!"

Not that I wouldn't possibly cry. Patsy is my dear, sweet, precious friend and I am sure I would be upset and frustrated were she to go missing...crying would be a normal reaction. But helpless? Oh no. Not this woman. I wouldn't be. As soon as I heard the news my mind would start into overdrive. We would figure this thing out and find my friend.

I had to analyze my reaction a bit. I was a bit amused at my ire, but also a bit curious as to why it bothered me so much. I finally realized I absolutely hate feeling helpless. The thought that I can't do anything to change a situation? It is not something I accept easily. Yet so often, we just are.

I like to help. I like to solve problems. I like to feel smart. I like to be strong. Yet there are times when I can do none of those things....or they cannot change the situation.

So much in life is out of our control. Weather. Other people's actions or reactions. Feelings - ours or those of others. Death. Health. The hours in a day. Airlines. Someone else's child crying in a restaurant.

You would think that after a while we would get used to it. Acknowledge we are ultimately helpless. Accept that there are things that only God can control, that only God can change. But one of the most difficult things I have found in my relationship wth God is trusting during these times. I can acknowledge my lack of knowledge and lack of ability, but surrendering to God's will Is actively acknowledging that I cannot do anything about a situation....it does not come easily for me. It is against my nature. A sign of the constant battle I face in acknowledging God is God....and I am not.

I think part of my struggle is that I don't understand. I can't grasp why God allows certain things to happen in our world (note that I don't believe that God causes them, but I believe God can stop them). Yet then sometimes I imagine a world where these things didn't happen, where there was no pain and no struggle and no injustice, and I realize there would also be no growth. A crazy paradox. I suspect I will never understand it.  But this I know...some of the greatest beauty I've seen in life is triumph over these things. And in my own life the greatest triumph is when I don't stop the story before it is over....and when only the ugly shows....but stay alert to see the beauty that develops.

I do not like to feel helpless....but truth is that I am not. I have the very power of God behind me...and some "mad skillz" I was given by his creation and through the working out of living. Sometimes I do have to accept that things are out of my control, but I have learned that prayer is not necessarily to change God's mind, but to get my attention as I watch God at work. Sometimes I can sit back and watch...and not necessarily be helpless.

A lot of the time there are things I can do. Even when I feel helpless, There is something special about being willing to proceed without confidence. I don't have to see a stop sign. I can instead see a yield.....and either give way to the one who is in charge of the universe, or regroup and allow myself to be used again. And sometimes it is a beautiful green so I can charge ahead!

Patsy, or any of my dear friends or family, should you ever go missing, know I will not act helpless. I will fight like a wildcat until you are found. No stone will be left unturned. I will pray and listen to God, but I will also use all that I am to continue to search. Because sometimes we have to surrender....but sometimes surrendering to helplessness will never be an option I am willing to consider. 

Still, I will probably cry.

The Silent Treatment

Someone is giving me the silent treatment. It came out of the blue. They were someone I considered. a good friend and confidant. We had had a series of fun conversations over the course of a weekend several months back as they traveled around and told me what they were seeing and doing. We had our last conversation that Sunday night....pleasant and nothing unusual, that I noticed. The last thing they said to me was "I'll call you tomorrow." They didn't call, nor have they called me since.

I was first worried about them when I didn't hear from them. I tried calling them. I left the "Are you OK?" message. I finally realized it was an intentional thing. They were ignoring me. Because that was what they chose to do.

Believing in positive confrontation, I tried to find out what was going on. Phone messages and texts got no response. I'm not naive enough to believe everyone has to be my friend. That's impossible, isn't it? I didn't even want the friendship to continue if that was not what this other person wanted. I've blogged before about my rules for friendship....someone has to be in my life by choice and because they both like and respect me. If not, there is no need for them to be there. But this was someone I thought was a close friend. Someone I confided in. Someone I told things I hadn't told other people.  Leaving my life without a word hurt me. It threw me off-kilter. It didn't line up with things that I thought I knew about this person. I thought they really cared about me and were indeed a true and reliable friend. Someone I could count on. The idea that I possibly had trusted and confided in someone who wasn't worthy of that honor (and it is an honor)....it sickened me. 

I questioned myself. Why? Had I done something?  Examining it, there was nothing of which I was aware. Had I completely mis-judged them and they were just an insensitive jerk? Maybe.....but I'd like to think that after a period of time I would have a good grasp on a person's character. I realize that sometimes people never let you see the real them. Maybe that was the case here. I have no clue. It remains a mystery.

Truthfully I did not question myself very long about my part in things. I know certain things about myself. I am a good and loyal friend. I am one because I choose to be. I am one because I am willing to work at relationships, confront lovingly when necessary, and extend grace and forgiveness if needed. I am not perfect, but am also not friends with perfect people. And fortunately I have plenty of wonderful friends who are faithful and true and willing to work for good.

Examining further, I am not the only person who this person has shut out of their life. They have shut out someone who was a far better friend to them than I ever had the chance to be. They say it is that person's choice. I have never believed that. And if it was,  knowing the kind of friend this person was to them.....they should have done all in their power to reconcile and get that person to change their mind. From what they told me about the situation, they were wrong...their friend wasn't. They treaded on territory that was not really their business. Not that they couldn't give an opinion on it, but that person did not have to agree with them or change anything in their life because they thought they should. You should be able to give friends your opinion (lovingly), but they are under no obligation to take it. Ever. Respecting your friends means you respect their right to make decisions for themselves. 

In my opinion, you never shut platinum friends out of your life (I call "platinum" friends those who have been there for you in the worst of times and inconvenienced themselves for your good) ....unless they become "bad friends" and do not treat you with honor and respect. I did not see that being the case here. (Though my disclaimer...I was not there and this was not my relationship, so I don't pretend to know if my opinion is correct. Just another thing that came to mind as I analyzed the situation.)

Being the Googler I am, I Googled "silent treatment" one day. There was a lot of interesting stuff there, but nothing that indicated it could ever be emotionally healthy for anyone involved. It is a passive-aggressive form of behavior usually used to inflict punishment. It's a power play. It's used by abusers and narcissists, and people scared to confront in a healthy manner. Wikipedia even said it was used to inflict punishment on prisoners in the 19th century.

An article by Andrea Schneider at good therapy.org said "The silent treatment is a form of emotional abuse typically employed by people with narcissistic tendencies. It is designed to (1) place the abuser in a position of control; (2) silence the target’s attempts at assertion; (3) avoid conflict resolution/personal responsibility/compromise; or (4) punish the target for a perceived ego slight. Often, the result of the silent treatment is exactly what the person with narcissism wishes to create: a reaction from the target and a sense of control.

The target, who may possess high emotional intelligence, empathy, conflict-resolution skills, and the ability to compromise, may work diligently to respond to the deafening silence. He or she may frequently reach out to the narcissistic person via email, phone, or text to resolve greatly inflated misunderstandings, and is typically met with continued disdain, contempt, and silence. Essentially, the narcissistic person’s message is one of extreme disapproval to the degree that the silence renders the target so insignificant that he or she is ignored and becomes more or less nonexistent in the eyes of the narcissistic person."

Is that what is going on? Who knows? I'd like to think it is more complicated....that there is a valid reason for it all.  A kinder reason. I hope that is the case.  

I'm in a good place with things now. Life is too short to worry about such things for long and the last few months have reminded me I have a great group of platinum friends who care about me without the need to play games. These friends will put themselves out to be there with me when devastation hits....just as they do in times of celebration. They want to share my life, my sorrows, and my joys. That is friendship. And that is a privilege....never a burden.

I respect the choice of this person to be silent, and will let them have it. I will always be curious about the why, but that is also theirs to keep to themself if they choose. While I have experienced a lot of emotions in this process (truthfully it happened at an emotional time of my life, so that probably made it seem bigger), equilibrium is back. I don't have issues with them (well, except for the fact that they have chosen this path and I have no clue how to treat them when I run into them in the future), and I know it's their issue, not mine. I have responsibility for nothing unless they choose to discuss it with me. And my door will always be open for discussion. I am interested as to what is going on in their head....but unless they choose to tell me, it is their own business. When you care about people, you want to help them. But when they curl up in a ball nurturing their wounds and put a moat around the castle and won't let you get close, you realize you are powerless to help. For your sake, that has to be OK and you must realize it is not your job to fix it. Unless they ask for help. Then you're there.

I don't have the attention span to give someone the silent treatment for long, and truthfully I prefer to face conflicts in a positive manner. This has strengthened that resolve in me. But I share all this with you to ask....are you giving someone the silent treatment? Have periods of that become a habit in your relationships? Maybe you need to think about why, work through it, and have a conversation or two. And if someone is doing it to you and you find yourself obsessing or clambering to find the reason why, move on. Spend your time with those who respect you enough to talk it through.

My Profiling

I don't really understand racism on a certain level. I never have. I hope I never do. I love our colorful world. I think colors and shapes and glitter and movement make each one of us an interesting package that everyone should be eager to unwrap and discover. But even as I say that, I start to question myself. Has racism and prejudice somehow creeped into my life and become a part of me?

I definitely can't deny it exists. I used to try. Well, I didn't totally deny it existed, but I thought people were changing. That we were moving towards equality. Towards a world that celebrates color and differences. But I hear conversations, watch how people assess particular situations, see how race is still mentioned on almost any form you complete (even though many people I know are a racial rainbow that don't fit in the boxes), and I know we're not there yet. Not even close.

I can't deny racism and prejudice has started to impact me....something I thought would never happen. Maybe it's not exactly racism, but more of a prejudice. I find myself profiling people based on looks (which can include skin color, but other things too.)  I notice it in myself mostly when I am traveling. 

I usually blow through TSA at a rapid speed. Often I get pre-check status. (I've meant to go through the process of getting it officially, but have never taken the time. It's on my to-do list.) I love when I see pre-check on my boarding pass and enjoy the quicker run through security. I don't think about the fact that I get that status most often because I don't fit into any negative profiles.....I just figure they like me.

I find I notice others more these days. I look at people at airports differently. It's an odd thing for me, who has always embraced differences and would most often want to sit next to the person who is more exotic than me. Now some corner of my mind stalks out my fellow passengers. Do they look like a terrorist? When we left for Japan, Maggie and I had our picture taken by a woman wearing a hijab. She was a very sweet lady....but I suspect she didn't knock through TSA as quickly as we did. If she did, I suspect she was still eyed by some off our fellow passengers differently. She ended up being on our flight and I ended up watching her a lot. I felt protective of her. I was curious as to who she was and what her story was. Did I fear her? Not at all. But she was a curiousity. (And she had a ton of luggage!)

These days I especially find myself looking at the men who board my flight. Not to see who is most attractive, as I might have in days of old, but to gauge who they are. What do I see in their eyes? Is it kindness, or anger, or even worse.....are they vacant? I make mental notes as to where those who raise my suspicions sit. And I also assess the other passengers....who will help me if issues break out? I know I will not go down without a fight.....but who will be on my team? And what will be my strategy? (Yes, sometimes reading a lot does impact real life. I have a dramatic imagination.)

But so far the flights have all ended up being fine, and probably those I personally profiled are nice folks I would want to know. Still, had they done anything I deemed unusual on the plane, I might over-react should it "seem overly suspicious".

I was taught to always respect law enforcement....and I do. Usually. When I went through the Citizen's Academy at our local police department I was so impressed with most of the officers that I met. I heard the compassionate way they looked at most situations and was happy they chose to do what they do. But sometimes I would see that human side...the cynicism that comes from dealing with real people day in and day out. Not everyone I met was a person I liked or trusted or bonded with instantly. Some seemed very young and immature. Some a bit jaded. Some thoughtless. There were none I really had major issues with....in fact, overall they raised my esteem for who they are and what they do. But you can't help but be reminded they are human....and being trained and wearing a uniform does not make someone a good person with sound judgment. And weeding out the good from the bad....that is a difficult job that I am not sure I could do myself.

I have much sympathy for those in law enforcement. How can they help but form opinions about people? How can they help but do a bit of profiling? If I do it on a plane, how much more would there be a tendency to do it if I had a job that required I deal with true criminals, sometimes the worst specimens of humanity, day in and day out?

There's that fear factor. It has to be on their mind each day. They have a job where they deal with people at their worst. They put themselves in danger every day. They spend a lot of time training for the worst possible scenarios. I'm incredibly grateful they do....I appreciate them being ready to protect us from almost any event that could happen. But doesn't that also impact how a person looks at the world? They are taught that when there is a threat to stop it as soon as possible. How do we keep them safe (and we all should work to keep them safe), but also keep those who are not threats to their lives safe from harm?

When I did the Citizen's Academy we did simulations where we were put in situations where it was simply us and a gun in a place where a life-like video played out all around us. The very first simulation, I was shot. I hesitated. I didn't assess the situation correctly. It would have been difficult to do so.....there were layers that required your discernment and action. It moved so quickly. A lot was out of my control. I wasn't confident. While I did better in future simulations, there were others where I could have easily killed an innocent person. It wasn't easy. It was a bit frightening....and I knew it was all pretend. I wish you all had the opportunity to go through these. I think you may have a different view of the real life of law enforcement.

I don't know all the answers. The hate has to stop. We need to find a way to break beyond the fear. We need to protect the innocent....both police and public. We need to become one. A country bound together. Races and genders and religions and occupations and ideologies. Determined to stop the hate speak and the hysteria in all areas of our lives. Like many others I am sickened by the thought of what lies ahead for our country. But this I know....I can make it better. So can you. We can be the calm and rational voices that help our country work through this. Focusing on the future. On the good things that can happen. And fighting for justice and mercy. For all. Not just for those that happen to be like us. 

The Helpers

I keep hearing people refer to that Mr. Rogers quote lately. You've probably heard it, too.

"My mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.' To this day, especially in times of disaster, I remember my mother's words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers — so many caring people in this world."

2016 has been a tough year. Possibly the toughest year I have ever had on many levels. I can handle tough. God's given me some good gifts and prepared me well. Often from giving me a front row seat watching people fight (and often slay) unbelievable dragons.  I'm pretty strong and self-sufficient Truthfully it hasn't come naturally or easily and there are still many areas in which I lack. Over time I've learned to deal with life head on, though. As I am, with both the strengths and weaknesses. In time that makes you more powerful...though you do bump your head and get a few stunning concussions in the process. But one thing I have learned (after quite a bit of muddling).....it's OK to need the helpers.

The sweetness with which friends and family have been there for me this year has overwhelmed me at times. I have become so strongly aware of what a great tribe I have created over the years. The messages, the texts, the phone calls, the hugs. People interrupted time with others to reach out and see if I needed them. One friend texted almost daily for a period of time just to make sure all was well. Each text was a precious gift, appreciated for the loving heart and supportive friend behind it. I received beautiful flowers that made me smile and reminded me not only of the beauty and fragility of life, but they were a constant reminder that these people who sent them were there if I needed them. 

As an introvert (yes, I really am!) I tend to hole up a bit when times are tough, or only hang out around my family and a very few friends, whose presence is low key and soothing and easy for me to be around and who don't expect anything from me I can't easily give. Some friends knew that I was hibernating and let me be...a few others knew and when they thought it was needed made me engage anyway. They forced me out to lunch or dinner or to a community event. They'd respect the answer no, when I just couldn't, but encouraged yes. In the end, it all seemed to balance to give me what I needed.

When I was around some people, there were some fumbles. Some people said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Some gave me things to worry about that I hadn't even thought about. Some were just too....there. When I needed calm, they added chaos. But whatever their mis-step....I loved their hearts for trying.

There were those few people who hurt me. Some with words (because they, too, were hurting.) Some because of their lack of words. I understood some, and was exasperated by others. All are forgiven.  Though keep in mind that forgiveness is an ongoing process sometimes, for those of us who are human. We're imperfect, we mortals. But I can say I do wish the best for these folks...most of the time. I'm getting close to "all of the time". That's when I will have come to a place of full forgiveness, I think. Purely dependent on my actions and decisions, not on theirs. Truth is, these folks were such the minority that it is just another reason to be grateful.

This past week I had "one of those days". The most difficult issue was finding myself at my office in Winston without my purse....and with about 60 miles to go before my car hit empty. It was a vulnerable feeling. I was supposed to go to Victory Junction that night to help crew so we could give tethered balloon rides for kids with cerebral palsy. When I mentioned my dilemma on Facebook (living alone it has become my roommate), it was all taken care of in minutes. More than one friend offered to help. My friend Denise "won".....I appreciate her and her constant kindness. She provided dinner and gas money and directions to the 24-hour gas station,

One of my friends was talking about it last night and said "It almost made me want to post something similar and see if anyone would be there for me." Yes, they would. I'd be first in line, but there would be others there fighting me. She has created a village of caring people around her and that's what we do. I think most of you would find the same.

We can choose to live on this earth and try to do it all on our own, but I think that leads to a lonely and sad existence. The alternative is to celebrate the fact that we don't have to. Much of our purpose is to care for each other. We are probably wired to be either givers or receivers in unequal proportion. One thing that I have learned the past few years is that I don't always, shouldn't always, have to be the giver. Sometimes it is time to receive. If you're not used to it, it is uncomfortable at first. It's also uncomfortable if you're not used to giving. But when you allow either to happen, especially when it is difficult for you, you see God at work. You see others allowed to fulfill their purpose. You create bonds that are akin to steel and it's like arms interlocked against whatever evil force lies ahead.

Look around you. Find the helpers. Don't be afraid to tell them your needs. If they can't help, ask someone else. You'll find someone at the right time....or find within yourself what you need to solve your problem. God provides.

But also look for those times you are meant to help. Sometimes it requires you to open your eyes wider, not look away, or focus a bit more intently. Helpers look for people who need what they have to offer....and if they don't have what is needed in a particular situation, they don't dessert them until they help them find a solution. Sometimes the best help you can offer is to help find other helpers (I think that is my particular gift.)

I love helpers. I follow them around and try to get them to allow me to join them. It shouldn't be a surprise when I see them in action for me. But it usually is. The sweetest kind of surprise.  We are going to encounter hard times in this world. The helpers will make it better,

These Sad Times

Is anyone else almost overwhelmed with the sad lately? Do you feel like saying "Wait a minute, God, I need a few days to catch up. Are you paying attention to what's going on here? Please, can't you send a bit more happy...or even just a few more days of numbness?"

It's a weird time. As most of you know I just got back from an an amazing trip to Japan with my zestful, joyful, and "full of life" niece, Maggie.  Most of you also know we left still raw from the devastating death of my great nephew Kaelan. A few of you might know we went right after the chilling loss of my cousin Jason. I missed Jason's memorial service. My family understood and was supportive, but I wanted to be there. I wanted to hug his parents and his brother, and absorb some of their pain. Oh, maybe you can't absorb the pain of others....but you hope in some way being there for them can. I think it helps. And I wanted to be there...because family is there when you go through the best of times, the worst of times, and all days in between. And while my family is large in number, every single one of us matters and counts and is necessary for us to be whole.

There have been other suicides in our community lately.  Not only those that devastated my family, but also some that greatly impacted the lives of others that I love. What is happening to our world? What do we do to soothe the tortured soul? How do we recognize they're drowning and get them to grab onto the life preserver?

Orlando happened....and as if the massacre itself wasn't enough of a blow to our nation, the hate that some put out after hearing the news was stunning. Some said that because this happened in a gay nightclub, that these victims deserved it. I felt such despair at the very condition of mankind when I heard this was happening....and frustrated knowing that this kind of thought bred the hate that led to the massacre in the first place.How can anyone, especially Christians professing to speak in the name of God, smugly look at such carnage and say that people deserved it? Have these people forgotten the one requirement to them being a Christian is to acknowledge their own sin? To realize that their sin alone grieves God? That measuring the sin of others is fruitless, and when we do so we always see a distorted picture? When you are pointing fingers at others you are not looking into the face of God and following him.

We who are Christians should not be messengers of woe, but witnesses of hope. We should not be feared for the retribution we shovel out on others by the bucketload  ....instead, we should be a haven from the evil of the world, a beacon in darkness, salve to damaged and hurting souls, compassion for those who go astray. Our message should be "I am here for you, God is here, too. We will stand in harm's way for you and protect you. Even from yourself." That should even be our message to hate-filled Christians. Often that is where I am most challenged.

We all mourn differently. I am not the sackcloth and ashes type. I find it pointless. I want to find purpose in the pain. I want lives we have lost to matter....for others to know about them...and for their life to be more significant than their death. I am still learning how to make this happen, but that is my goal.

In church today we studied Mark 1, where Jesus told Simon and his brother Andrew to follow him and learn how to be "fishers of men". What stood out to me was what they would have seen next. Jesus heals a lot of people. He identified needs and met them. It doesn't mention once him taking his disciples on a sin identification field trip. It doesn't appear that was what Jesus thought was most important for them to learn.

I'm a bit impatient with wall builders at the moment....people who cut people off in this world. People who are different than them, people who exercise their freedom in ways they don't like, people who bruise their sensibilities, people who hurt their feelings...they try to build their world so they don't ever encounter them. 

If this is you, get over it. Get out and mingle. Use your words and talk it out. When others don't agree with your opinions, remember that they don't have to. Talk to them, calmly and rationally. Mostly listen. Actively. You may learn something. They may learn something. Maybe in this world of paradox, you are both right. People are imperfect and insensitive and often just brats....but don't let it stop you. Love them where they are. Don't enable their behavior, but don't condemn and isolate. Does hate, slamming doors in the faces of the world, really help? I can't see that it ever has.

When in Japan we visited Hiroshima. It was thought-provoking. I was reminded that from carnage, hope and peace can grow. Good things can happen. You can choose to treasure grudges, build walls, shut out every one of those who brought you pain, and retaliate against them...or you can use the circumstance to make you stop and acknowledge the senselessness of such gestures and instead build something good.

I've asked God "Why?" a lot lately. I've looked at my own life and tried to dissect how I can better love in a way that plants goodness and breeds love. How I can open my eyes to those who are hurting and instead of instinctively running in the other direction (as I would prefer), stand my ground and open my arms?

I was not created for hate. I was created for love. I was not created to isolate. I was created to live in a world full of diverse people and be at peace with them. I was not created for despair. I was created for hope. 

I can be sad for all that has been lost, but I should not allow myself to remain overwhelmed. God is here. In the midst of it all are seeds of joy. Let's plant these seeds in the name of hope. Let's bring healing and beauty to our sad world.