I Am Not Human

The determination has been made that I am not human. Furthermore, since I am not a human, I must be a computer.

This is not a conclusion I have come to to easily or without argument. It has taken a few years for me to accept it. But I cannot seem to pass the human test; therefore I am a computer. Thus says the CAPTCHA.

CAPTCHA stands for "Completely Automated Public Turing Test to Tell Computers and Humans Apart." You know them.....they are a big part of internet "security" these days. Used to be bigger, but some folks have gotten smart. They were designed to keep the bots from taking over the internet. Or at least that is what the official line is. The truth is, they were designed to drive me insane. I just know it. 

I have scanned the names of the inventors listed in Wikipedia to see if I recognize one of the names as someone from my past. I don't recognize any of them. But still....maybe that's it. I should have noticed them lurking. I must have offended someone.

You may understand. There may be more than just me out there. When I see one of those tests of jumbled letters and numbers, I never seem to be able to decipher them correctly. I try and try. I focus intently. Wikipedia said the average person gets them in 10 seconds. I am certainly above average. I have never gotten one in 10 seconds in my entire life. I wish I were exaggerating. No....I would guess my record is probably 10 minutes. And that would be on a day when I am high fiving myself due to my brilliance.

The newest are the pictures where you have to identify things like signs and cars in pictures. Granted I do better on these, but still have difficulty. Is that a line or a signpost? Is that the headlight of a car or another shiny object? Yes, I am perhaps a tad over-analytical. Or maybe not analytical enough. I can't decide....because you never see why you failed, so you can't learn how they view them. 

I have a mild form of dyslexia. The biggest issue from this that has manifested itself in my life (other than not knowing what shoe went on what foot way after it was socially acceptable) is that I can't reverse mirror images. My siblings can enjoy themselves for hours imitating me trying to use a curling iron. And you thought I have short straight hair because it looks best on me? Who would know? A "style" is not an option.

So I suspect that dyslexia may play a part in this. But also....it's just messy. I am a person of detail. I am over-analytical. Maybe I make it more difficult than I should. But truly....I have  tried first instincts and agonized over every character. Every time, I get the sign of "you are a loser". The next "puzzle" pops up. Arghhh!

Sometimes there is an audio option, The first time I saw that I got excited. Then I realized that it was like Charlie Brown's teacher, or at other times Chatty Cathy on speed, doing a spelling test. I don't think I have ever made it through one of them correctly. I don't even try these days.

So on the CAPTCHA scale, I am not a human. I am a computer. Which is funny since the concept of the technology is that my fellow computers, instead of humans, make that determination. I think they like me. They really like me.

While in the past it has made me feel like the "bad egg" in "Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" (If you don't know the reference, or want to review it, I will place a link from the movie at the end of the blog), I have decided that I will instead be proud that computers see me as their own based on this great programming by the CAPTCHA people. I suspect a computer could get through their test easier than me, so the CAPTCHA folks are not quite as smart as they think they are. Nor are the websites that seek feedback, or purchases, from folks like me, but require I first pass this test. After a while I give up, still pretty sure I am human but unwilling to spend any more time in my life proving it.

"A Bad Egg" scene - https://youtu.be/kpgRdVBf5Qk

Stealing the Purpose

My niece Sara recently posted a video on Facebook about a visit to Publix.  We’re a family of independent women (well, other than I am hopeless with any home or craft projects and always am begging for help there) and to have someone push our grocery cart to the car when we are perfectly capable of doing it ourselves just seems wrong. She was a bit stunned to realize that when the cashier said she was happy to take her groceries to the car, she really meant it. The cashier really liked that part of her job. To say no hurt her feelings a bit. Providing that kind of customer service is important to Publix and their company culture is based on it (well, at least they said that when they moved into Statesville). I suspect it does make their employees happier.. There is joy in doing nice things for other people or in knowing your work brought a smile to someone’s face. Sata said yes and they had a good discussion about being willing to receive help.

I hate when I hear a friend has struggled in some area where it would have been simple for me to help. It’s a bit deflating...because I feel they don’t trust me as a friend. I believe that’s part of friendship...and part of family. When I say “Call me if you need me”, I mean it. On one hand I understand they don’t want to bother me, because I do the same to others. But when they do that, they are also denying me the opportunity to care for them. And we should look out for each other. I like to take care of my friends.... or anyone who needs it.

I’m not usually the person who can often force myself into a situation. “Introvert respect”, I guess you would call it. Because sometimes I don’t want people around (such as when I am sick or in the hospital), that is my default in most relationships. I forget others are different. That sometimes people need someone just to be there for them. That sometimes people need to know people are there to care for them. And we all deserve to be cared for. Even this introvert loves her time with other people and enjoys the sweet gift of another's time or a a gesture of caring. (Just maybe not all day, every day.)

Usually when I have had friends or family that were facing a serious illness, they have never wanted people to do things for them. At least that is what they said. Maybe they would allow the closest of family, their spouse for instance, but that was it. And the spouse, already emotional themselves, was burning themself out.

Someone told me of one person, though, that started making lists. She was sick, but she understood the need of people to show her they loved her....and it was great. If you asked if there was anything you could do for her, she would get out her list and say “If you could get me a box of notecards and some stamps, that would be great” or “How about bringing dinner on Friday? If I feel well enough, I’d love you to stay and eat with us, but also know I may not feel up to it. Can we play that part by ear?” or “The kids really could use a fun activity. Can you plan something?” or “We’re about out of toilet paper. Could you pick us up a few rolls?” or “We’re going to be away for three days for these treatments. Could you get our mail?” She kept people bustling and they kept going back for more. It was a sweet time for all....and they bonded more because of it. She created community....and they all got through it together.

I admit I am usually bad at this sort of thing....both giving and receiving. I want to give, but for most people I am always hesitant. I make feeble attempts, but have no great thoughts of what people really need. It’s like my brain becomes paralyzed. Plus I am a bad shopper....so hate things like gift giving. I like practical tasks.

I’m not always good at receiving either. Yet sometimes I need someone to keep me on task. To sit there and make sure I stay focused on things. Or frankly, sometimes “the overwhelms” hit and I need them to do it for me.

For a certain period of time in my life, I moved five times in five years. Most of those were company moves, so they would often do the packing and moving part. But I couldn’t let them unpack for me (even the times the company had included that) because I get a bit freaked out about the moving process. I don’t know what I would have done without family and friends. More than once my mom unpacked my kitchen and put those things away for me. A kitchen that is put together goes a long way to making you feel at home. My dad would set up the washer and dryer. My college roommate Ann came for several moves and once, after repeated attempts by me to distract her and get her to go do fun things instead of unpacking, she said to me “Go get a book, and sit in that chair, be quiet, and read. I am going to unpack boxes.” And unpack she did. What a wonderful gift. And she seemed to like going through my stuff and putting it away. Or maybe she liked doing things for her friend. I suspect it may be more of the latter....though I prefer to think the former, as though I was giving her a gift in letting her unpack for me and put my home together!
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We are meant for community.  Communities are at their best when they give to each other and receive. The healthiest have balance, and all give and are at times in a position to receive, During my 20s none of my friends could afford movers. Many Saturdays were spent with a crowd of us getting together to help someone move. It was even fun.My roommate and I had a paint party when we moved into a new house. I never lifted a paintbrush. If anyone knows of my painting skills, you know my friends were saving me from myself. Instead I cooked....and went from room to room talking and laughing with everyone. It was a great time and produced some fun memories.

I have made a large number of my friends while volunteering. Some of the activities were not pleasant or generally my idea of a good time. But for some reason we had fun. A job needed to be done and we did it together. Or we did it for a good cause. Because someone couldn’t do it for themself. Or because they needed a reason to smile.

I love the concept of random acts of kindness. I think my 2018 goal is to do more of them. To find a need and meet it. To find someone who has lost their smile, and help them find it. So often the smallest of things can pick someone up.

I was at work many years ago and one of the gentlemen who worked with me came by to see if I had change for a dollar. I was fighting severe migraines at the time (later I figured out they were caused by the sugarless mints I had been eating) and was feeling horrible. He didn’t know this, but was simply his normal warm self. He walked out of my office and I burst into tears. I remember it still 30 years later. Those were tears of thanksgiving....he was simply kind on a day I needed kindness (even if he thought he was just getting change for a dollar.) Those simple interactions can change the course of someone’s day. Do you remember some of those times in your own life? If not, think on things a bit.....and remember.

Let us be thankful for each other. Let us give.....and receive. Because sometimes receiving gives someone a wonderful gift. Purpose.Don't steal it from them.

Dear Dad

Dear Dad,

It’s your birthday. The first one you are spending in heaven. A bit better than last year, huh? I know from my Facebook memories we were praying you would pass the swallow test. I am glad we did not know what would come ahead. Having hope was good.

It’s your first birthday since I have been born I haven’t gotten to speak to you. Well, except for that first year of my life when I was almost four months old and I may have babbled. But you still got the message that year, didn’t you? I may have babbled to you at other times. I seem to remember you mentioning it. You usually tolerated it well. And heard me out and pretended it made sense.

Birthdays weren’t important to you. They really weren’t. The years I was in college and the years I lived out of town and called and asked to speak to you (I always had to ask for you, because if anyone else was in the house, you would not answer the phone), you would listen to my exuberant birthday wishes, say a bemused “Thank you, Kimberley” and then “Do you want to talk to your mother?” You’d not wait for my answer, but hand the phone back to her.  It always made us laugh. Talking on the phone was not your thing. Even to your most precious daughter. You didn’t see the sense of having a long conversation on it.

You didn’t get traditional birthday cakes. That was not what you loved and Mom indulged you. You preferred an apple pie or a cobbler. With vanilla ice cream, of course. Maybe an apple cake. Never the frothed up and iced up traditional birthday cake with candles.

To be the center of attention and the recipient of the Happy Birthday song? I suspect it was torture for you. (I kind of understand that one.) As we kids got older I don’t recall us doing it often. But then the next generation came and you had to suffer through it again for your grandchildren's sake. I think that was far more tolerable for you. You did love those grandchildren.....and you had mellowed out about such things so I don't think you suffered much then. You enjoyed their enjoyment of celebration.

You being you, and our family being our family, it is not a big birthday celebration for you I miss today, because our birthday celebrations are usually reserved for kids. But this, the anniversary of the day you were born (or was it?....there was a bit of confusion there), you have been on my mind all day. Work has been busy, so that took a lot of my attention. But you were with me all day. I could have spent the whole day grieving your death, but if my mind went there I stopped it. Grieving on this day misses the most important point.

While you didn’t particularly get much pleasure out of your birthday, I do. Your birthday was my gift. I am privileged to be your daughter. I was able to celebrate your birth in some way with you (even if it was only a 15-second phone call) for 56 years. So many don’t get that chance. You were a good man. Someone consistent in how they lived their life. Someone I could always count on. Stubborn as a mule. The least funny person in our family (bless your heart.) Tolerant of the humor of the rest of us....even if at your expense...though mostly you ignored our funny selves. You were one of the smartest people I have ever met and someone who always just dealt with the logic. You didn’t get the emotional side of life much. But you took care of us well and kept us on an even keel. We were loved purely and without doubt. In the Dad lottery, I got you. The best prize.

So to apply logic to it all, in my own way, this should not be a day about your death at all, but a day to celebrate your birth.  I am so glad you were born. I am glad you chose to have children and gave me life. I am grateful for all the memories...and all the things you taught me. (Like how to stalk people with cameras. And the finer points of basketball.) You took fatherhood seriously. You took most things seriously. You were stable and honest. You didn’t waste time on anxiety. It served you well. It served us all well.  I’m trying to emulate that....though I don’t have it quite to your level.

I asked Mom if we should do anything to commemorate your day. She said she would prefer it be quiet. Surely that is what you would have wanted. You were private and quiet. Well, unless we were in trouble. Then you could get very loud.

Today I am remembering those things that remind me of you, and I am smiling. A few tears may be leaking out, but I am trying to keep them to a minimum. Your birth day was a great day. Something to be celebrated, not mourned. Maybe sometime I will come up with a cool way to celebrate this day in a special way. For now, I’ll celebrate quietly. Or try. You know us McKinneys. We’re not that great being quiet.

You changed the world. In a very good and simple way. I am proud of that.

Even now God is with us. In heaven and on earth. We’ll be together again. In the meantime, I will look for signs of you. I will live what you taught me, as best as I can. With my own spin on it, of course. Because really... you never expected me to do it all your way, now, did you?

I love you. That will never die. Nor will your love for me. It is still here. I feel it. And I know it.

XXX
OOO

That 2017 Goal

So I had one goal for 2017. Just one. I am not a huge proponent of New Year's resolutions because I think often they are like drunken promises. We get crazy enthused and are going to make these huge major changes in our lives just because a new year has started... and we fail miserably each time. Usually week one. I'm over that....but still....I try to pick one area and make small incremental changes that will make my life better. Sometimes I even fail miserably at that.


For 2017 it was simple. I had found I had gotten completely sedentary in my work life. Working at home most days, there aren't a lot of rules. While friends and co-workers have told me they have issues working at home because they get easily distracted, I don't. In fact, the opposite occurs. There are so many distractions around the office, that I find it harder to focus on work there. I like to catch up on the lives of my co-workers and chit chat about everything going on, work and personal. (We all obviously get much less work done when I am in the office....probably one reason the company is so supportive of me working at home.) I like to watch the activity around the building. "Who's that guy walking down the hall....I've never seen him before." "And what happened to the woman that used to be in that office?" I attend meetings in person, where it's frowned upon (and rude) to multi-task. And it is loud....at least compared to home. There's always something to get my attention away from the work I need to do. The hazards of living life with ADD.

Home is different. I don't need to get dressed if I don't want to. Often I just start work. I don't even have to leave my bed....it is the perfect office. Add my laptop, iPad, and a couple of phones all around me, and I have everything I need for the day. I can comfortably focus on work....which is a good thing, right?

Until it is not. Until those two hours you save by not commuting to your office just become two more hours to work. Until you don't leave that spot on your bed for hours on end.  I'm talking five hours at a time on occasion. OK...even.more than sometimes. It happens way too often. Lately daily.

While some may be proud of this awesome work ethic, it horrifies me. I've read the problems sitting still for hours at a time can have on your health. I forget to eat, I forget to drink water. Hours of my life pass me by and I notice nothing except the computer screen in front of me or the voices on the latest conference call. My human contact is all virtual.  When it gets down to it, this is not acceptable to me. I want more out of my life and my body than a good work ethic.

So there are two more months in the year. I need to attain my goal. Like I said....I don't even try for perfection these days, just progress. It's time to make some small changes and see what I can do. To possibly work at my desk in my home office on occasion. Or sit where I can look out if a window and see a squirrel running around my yard. To take a break for a walk....even if I am doing it while on a conference call. To make lunch dates when it fits into my schedule so I can look people in the eye in person and catch up on their lives. To get on the treadmill when I hit the wall and take a few minutes to get away from it all and re-group. To make lunch and sit and eat it. Maybe reading a novel as I do so....or maybe just enjoying the food and noticing what I am eating.

No one has forced me into this cycle.....though I have other co-workers who are doing the same thing. We advise companies on wellness programs....and tell them to encourage healthy work habits in their employees. It's not only beneficial for them, but it pays dividends to the company. Yet sometimes we don't take our own advice.

We plan our days. We make choices in our lives. If I were talking to a friend who had developed my bad habits, I would be lecturing them furiously and telling them a million ways they could make changes. Yes....I know a few of you are laughing at the truth of this....because you have been the recipient of lots of solicited or non-solicited advice. But it is because I care. And I do believe we need to care for ourselves the way we want those we love to care for themselves.

So I have two months to meet my goal. The year isn't over yet. I just need to make progress. I have re-assessed where I am and I have not moved from where I was at the first of the year. I may have regressed. The time to change is now.

You are allowed to hold me accountable. Ask me what I have done to break the negative cycle. Ask me if I put real clothes on today, or took a shower. Call me to make a lunch date. Call me during the work day and ask me when I last moved my body. Sometimes we need a little help from our friends.

Enough about me....how can I encourage you? What bad habit do you need to change?

Eclipsing

Photo by Mike Woodside

"Nations, like stars, are entitled to eclipse. All is well, provided the light returns and the eclipse does not become endless night. Dawn and resurrection are synonymous. The reappearance of the light is the same as the survival of the soul."  Victor Hugo

"We should always endeavor to wonder at the permanent thing, not at the mere exception. We should be startled by the sun, and not by the eclipse. We should wonder less at the earthquake, and wonder more at the earth." Gilbert K. Chesterton

"When we have God in clear focus, His powerful presence eclipses our fear." Chuck Swindoll  

The only memory I had of the eclipse that was in 1970 was in the preparation. I remembered the pinholes in the shoe boxes, the warnings not  to look at the sun without them, and the general feeling of excitement and fear ("Don't look at the sun!"). That's about it. I have no recollection whatsoever of seeing the eclipse. Maybe some of you that knew me during that time will tell me if I did. Regardless, it didn't make much of a lasting impression. My guess is that I was underwhelmed.

So why did I decide to not only view it, but go to see it at totality in Columbia, SC, with my friend Jan? Well, beyond the fact that Jan is fun to hang out with and we were overdo a visit, I have no clue. Luckily I can work from anywhere, so I just prepared to work at Jan's house that day. It seemed to make sense because I had to be in Atlanta for a meeting the next day, and from Columbia that's only about a 3 1/2 hour drive. I hate flying to Atlanta for day trips and I figured the airports would be full of people who were headed home, so driving seemed the more peaceful route. Yes, I knew traffic to Atlanta may be worse than normal, but I was prepared for that. I thought.

Astronomy was one of my least favorite classes at UNC. I loved the lectures of my cute Dutch professor, but hated all of the parts of the class others would consider "fun." My TA for observatory and I hated each other from Day 1....right after I asked him how you really figure out what direction North is. Yes, I knew the North Star (his answer) and could figure that out....but I though there was more. There had to be....you can't always see the North Star. I still don't get it. I thought if I could unravel the mystery of North-South-East-West, it would be a college coup for me. The TA snapped at me to point my telescope in the same direction as everyone else, and then I knew he wasn't one of my people. No coup would occur.
 
I did not stay awake for one of our weekly planetarium sessions. People pay money for the experience. The voice of the guy who led them was amazing....but monotone and soothing. After about the first few sentences, I was taking a nap. Every single class. Planetariums still have this effect on me.

But still.....part of me is fascinated by it all. I used to date a guy who loved astronomy, and I enjoyed stargazing with him and listening to him talk about it all. He didn't rid me of the astronomy hatred completely, but it was fun to see things through his eyes. A couple of years ago I attended a planetarium show and actually stayed awake for the whole thing. I was shocked by myself....though I still see it as a fluke.

But then there is the sheer beauty of the heavens. When my great nephew Kaelan died last year, my niece Sara asked people to take photos of the sky. Ever since I have found myself captivated by it. And comforted by it. I'm constantly shooting pictures of it. It reminds me that God has a really good view of things....and is in control of it all....and is quite the artist.

As the early moments of the eclipse started we threw blankets on the ground in Jan's beautiful back yard. I was hoping for quiet, and was so pleased when it was. We could hear some occasional chatter of the neighbors, but not much. As we laid there with our glasses on (that we tested out on the sun even before anything started), we were comparing notes. We saw different things. It was weird and fascinating. Jan attributed it to her cataracts, but it made me wonder how many things factored into it. How different is the view of the world for each of us?

Totality came and there was silence, then a collective sigh throughout the neighborhood, then cheers, then the voice of someone saying "We don't need glasses now." I had trouble keeping mine on anyway, so gladly flung them off.
 
I saw a black circle with a very small band of golden light behind it. Around the black circle there seemed to be a ring of glitter....that silver kind, with sprinkles of color. Totally magnificent. The neighborhood was in a bed of  twilight. It was quiet (except for a few fireworks.) It was awe-inspiring. It was worth it. Not only the actual moments of life it took to view it, but the almost seven hours it took to get to Atlanta (where taking the Waze route may have advanced me a little here and there, but also took me on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere for over two miles in the dark of night. Thankfully the serial killers must have been in traffic. Or gone elsewhere for the eclipse.)

Of all of the photos I have seen at totality, and I have seen a lot, none have captured what my eyes saw. They are beautiful, but not "it". Only one has even come close so far. But this is what I think. God has a pretty strong watermark. His work can't be duplicated. But possibly in our memories.

For a few minutes a lot of us were simply looking to the heavens. Excited about a supernatural occurrence that really is simply a natural part of creation. Feeling unencumbered by worries of the world, but instead giddy with child-like wonder. Not afraid of the future. Bonding with the people around us, even when we couldn't see them. Trusting that the universe was doing what it was supposed to do. Feeling like God was conducting an amazing cosmic ballet. For us.

While I may not remember what I saw at 10, I took a clear picture of this one in my mind. I will remember.....and smile. 

My Book of Mistakes

"A mistake should be your teacher, not your attacker. A mistake is a lesson, not a loss. It is a temporary, necessary detour, not a dead end."  -   Anonymous

"You build on failure. You use it as a stepping stone. Close the door on the past. You don't try to forget the mistakes, but you don't dwell on it. You don't let it have any of your energy, or any of your time, or any of your space." - Johnny Cash

"Never say, 'oops'. Always say, 'Ah, interesting'." - Anonymous

As my friend Heather and I were tooling around Malaprops bookstore in downtown Asheville, the cover to this book caught my eye. I snapped a picture. I didn't pick it up, didn't rifle through the pages as I often do when a book catches my eye. It just made me think......how thick would my book of mistakes be?

I don't seem to dwell on mistakes as much now as I used to. I used to let even the most minor error keep me tied up in knots for ages. As an analytic personality, I'd want to dissect it up and down. Why did I do it, say it, think it, forget it, or simply screw it all up? Do you know many angles from which  you can dissect something? It's infinite. When you are finished with the things from your point of view, them you start obsessing over the people impacted, or who may have been impacted. What do they think, will this change how they see me, am I a dork, idiot, or horrible person?

We're often presented to a tough jury. Some would rather you serve a life sentence for the mildest infraction. Or the death penalty.....you are dead to them and they want you to be dead to everyone else. Often that jury is simply yourself....and you seem to berate yourself as though with the internal voices of twelve angry jurors. Oh...and any lawyers and judges that happen to be in the vicinity. We need to remember that often the jury is wrong, or prejudiced. And sometimes they are right....and compassionate.

So many people live in complete fear that people, or God, will find out their mistakes. They try to hide from them completely. It reminds me of Jonah as he tried to hide from God. Quite silly to think God couldn't find him....especially since he was never out of his sight. But Jonah tried. And Jonah felt sorry for himself. And Jonah mourned everything and was obsessed with himself. He actually was both whiny and useless at a time when he could have been doing good things. Jonah wasted time.

I don't think we should forget our mistakes. We should deal with them appropriately. Was someone else impacted? We should apologize. Is there a lesson we can learn? We should figure it out and learn it. We should change when necessary, or adjust whatever needs tweaking going forward. The past can't be changed. But we can be better as a result of what we learned there.

While I don't believe you need to confess every little thing that you do to everyone you meet (because truly we don't want to hear), sometimes you need to talk it through. Sometimes saying it out loud allows you to figure things out for yourself. Sometimes there is someone with knowledge that can help you sort it out or figure out how to keep it from happening again, if only you tell them the truth of what happened. That's why we are here...surrounded by others.....to learn and share what we learn. Yeah, it takes a certain amount of bravery to live transparently. But it's also a big burden lifted.

Truth is, we know you are not perfect. And those times you pretend to be? It's wasted effort. There will always be someone who sees the real you.....and who will be shaking their head at your denial. Especially with today's technology. One way to keep clean....imagine you are on camera at all times. You just may be. And anyway...like Jonah, you're not fooling God. He can see you hiding behind that plant.

This morning I was sitting at a stop light and got distracted thinking about needing to run by the bank  to get some cash out of the machine. I glanced at my purse and reached for my wallet, preparing to grab my card in my wallet. The light turned green, the person in the white SUV behind me honked. I was momentarily startled and embarrassed, but went on my way. I didn't give it another thought (I may have hit myself in the head, reminding me to pay attention.). I pulled into the bank (probably a mile further down the road) and stuck my card in the cash machine. A white SUV pulled up in the next lane, which made me pause because there was no bank machine there. The lady rolled down her window and said "I am so sorry for honking at you back there." It confused me for a minute, then I remembered. "There is no reason to apologize," I told her, "I was the one who had gotten distracted. Thank you for getting my attention." She apologized again (lol) and went on to park in the lot near the bank. It made me smile. She worried about something she handled appropriately. Maybe it was not guilt but fear she would be a victim of my road rage (I don't have it often...and I don't think that was the case). I, the one who actually made the mistake, was already on to the next thing.....though admittedly more focused on my task at hand (driving) than I had been before because of her little reprimand. She, however, worried needlessly. She did nothing wrong. But still she felt more guilt than the true transgressor.

My book of mistakes would be quite thick, but you probably won't get a chance to read the special unabridged edition. I've forgotten a lot. There are others I need to forget, a few others I need to work through. But I'd rather get through the guilt stage and focus on the lessons learned....and live a better  life without toting that extra weight around. It's a beautiful world when you allow yourself to see it.

Father's Day Without Dad

I have always joked that my dad would not have known it was Father's Day unless we told him. That kind of thing just wasn't important to him. He didn't need presents, he didn't need cards, he didn't need flowery words. In fact, he preferred not to get any of that sort of thing (which worked for me!) But Father's Day was always family lunch day and that he always enjoyed, or quietly tolerated... we have very loud family gatherings, where he would sit in his recliner and alternately get in short conversations,  watch the family antics with amusement, or watch television, oblivious to us all.

Many of you know my died died December 18. This is the year of first everythings without him. Father's Day has always been a rather benign holiday to me (because it wasn't important to dad at all....and he never wanted to be the center of attention). It almost was funny to me....to watch him trying to be gracious for something he just didn't care about. But we celebrated him regardless.

This year it's not light and easy. The things that lead up to the day that I never really noticed (the advertising, for example) seem to be everywhere.To tell you the truth, this year I am annoyed by the day. This is a feeling that I don't believe will last into future years....because the day really is sweetly benign...but this year I believe I am allowed to indulge in feeling sorry for myself a bit.

 I find myself  mocking the retail advertisers in my head as they make statements that seem so stupid in my situation Universal messages just aren't universal.. "What would your Dad like for Father's Day this year?" "Another day with his family, Belk. Are you selling that?"

The emails.....Open Table telling me to make my reservations to treat my dad (he really didn't care about going out to eat. He preferred Mom's food.....or takeout.) K-Mart's "Dress Dad for Adventure". Sorry K-Mart....it may be difficult and I don't think you have anything that fits. Except a gift bag perhaps. "The best books to buy for Dad".... I just wish I could. He did love his books.The one gift you could buy him that he just may like.

I wanted to avoid our regular family celebration this year....and did not bring it up. I figured I would go hiking or do something else solitary. But I am not the only member of my family for whom this will be a tough day, and I know being together will not be an over-emotional outpouring, but our easy-going norm. That is always comforting. My nephew and his dear wife (who lost her dad way too young, so has experienced this loss for a lot of years) are going to host lunch and weather permitting we will enjoy the pool. It's not going to be the same, and not everyone in the family is going to be there. But that is the good thing about my family....we do what we need or want to do. There are no tight ropes. Whether together or not, the bond will be there. While I could choose solitary for the day, being with family, doing something a bit different, seems right. While Father's Day will always be about our Dad, how we each choose to celebrate it is fine. And he would approve. His needs were so few, it always was more about what we needed.

What media story about Father's Day actually made me feel better? Weather permitting, NASA plans to launch a rocket that releases colored vapors that become bright colored clouds. My dad's first jobs were related to the space program and everyone who knows me knows I love glow-in-the-dark. The idea of the skies lit up between earth and heaven... it seems perfect this year and makes me smile. Whether it happens or not....I love that it could.. http://www.wmur.com/article/nasa-hopes-for-father-s-day-launch-to-create-colorful-clouds-in-the-night-sky/10036871

Happy Father's Day Dad. On earth or in heaven, the truth doesn't change. It is a great fortune to have a dad that was steadfast and strong, that cared that the humans he raised be truthful,  hard working, and kind. You could care less if we made tons of money or met some crazy definition of success or perfection (good thing!). Loving you was always easy. That love lives eternally....and that is what I celebrate this and every Father's Day. But still.....I will miss the hugs. And the conversation.

Mom and I Go to the U.K. - Part 1

I'm an unusual traveler, I know. I don't make a lot of plans. I try to book airfare and accommodation, but usually. I do not do this months in advance....because....things happen. It seems to make more sense to me to decide where I am going and go soon.

I believe I started talking to Mom about going to Wales in March. It took her a bit by surprise, but she agreed. So here we go in a whirlwind two week trip, our main destination Newport, Gwent, South Wales, where my mom was born and where our family on her side still lives. She is trusting me to get her there. I think we'll do it....though we'll see if one if one of us kills the other before it is all over.

I have a travel rule.....we are all responsible for our own good time. Which means I will do what I need to do to have fun. You can join me or not. I won't feel personal guilt if you choose to be miserable, nor will I join you. I won't be offended if you want to spend your time differently than I do, and decided a long time ago I won't do things I don't want to do. Life is too short to fail to spend limited vacation time your way. I don't enjoy traveling because everything has always gone right. Some of my favorite memories are when things have gone horribly wrong. They usually turn out well.

I love flying and most of the travel process (other than packing and carrying luggage.) I don't mind wandering aimlessly, and figure I will spend much time lost. Mom hates flying, likes a plan, and likes when things go as predicted. We'll see how things go!

Travel is crazy these days. I booked through Expedia because rates were lower. (And I get Exoefia points and still get frequent flyer points.) Our flight over was an American Airlines flight, booked through Iberia Airlines. Mom was suspicious. She thought I was booking her on a cut rate airline with a sketchy safety record, even though I kept reminding her it was actually going to be American Airlines. She finally believed me. I think because her sister Beryl told her she had flown Iberia many times.

For for some reason I still don't know, they woukdn't let me book our seats in advance. People in our lives didn't help me here. They kept saying "They probably overbooked and you won't have seats." I scoffed....though a tiny part of me prayed. If it was just me, that would be OK. I'd go with it. That's not good enough when Mom is with me.

But it worked out fine. The first seats we were given were middle seats, but Mom mentioned she wanted an aisle seat and the woman changed our seats to an aisle and window seat close to the front of the plane. Score! Even better, leg room was ample. Even the food in the plane was tolerable ((I usually rank airline food in the same category as hospital food.) Mom, who never sleeps on planes, slept much if the way. I, who usually sleep on a flight from Charlotte to Greensboro, could not get comfortable. I barely slept at all.

Our hotel stay ended up being free in an Expedia deal. We read a couple of reviews and picked it together. It's called the Corinthia.....and is about a block from Trafalger Square. To get here we took a black cab. It is one step up from Uber, but cheaper than a regular cab. Our cost, with a generous tip, was 10£ less than a regular cab ride without tip. Still, a long ride so a bit of an expense. Not carrying luggage on the train....worth every penny. (Or rather pound.) Our cabdriver (who Mom was teasing about his testosterone when he carried most of our luggage himself, said he didn't have much since he was 33. He was from Bulgaria and enjoyed arguing politics with Mom on the drive. I think that helped keep her mind off his driving, which scared her and delighted me. He would fly down narrow streets where it looked like there was no room for one car, let alone two. Be did a three point road turn in the middle lane of a crowded London street. And he showed us his two pence coin, suitable for throwing at the cars of rude or crazy drivers. He claimed to have never really thrown one. I don't necessarily believe him. But he got us to our hotel, and we got a nice city tour besides.

The hotel is gorgeous. Great location, but for these two exhausted travelers, our plans of shopping at  Harrod's and going to a show lost out to the need for sleep. The desk clerk said he gave us a triple upgrade in our room. Who knows? But it is great. Mom says it is the nicest hotel she has ever stayed in, I admit I got quite excited when I realized the bathroom floors and towel racks are heated. And there is a TV over the bathtub. It's the little things.

We napped for a couple of hours, then went out looking for fish and chips. We got them at a place called Garfunkels. (I remember that because of Art.) Fish, chips (French fries y'all), malt vinegar, a bit if extra salt, garden peas instead of mushy peas, and a pot of hot tea with sugar and milk. One reason we love it here. After a walk around the block, we came back to the room. I write, while Mom sleeps. Days 1 and 2.....a success.

Tournament Time Without Dad

It's NCAA tournament time. This is the first one I have ever watched without talking to my dad about it. I didn't usually watch it with him, but we always talked about it. Always.

My love for basketball came from my dad. I had no interest in it until my teen years. It was then I developed my love for NC State basketball. Yes, I said State. I didn't become a State fan because Dad was a State fan....though he certainly enjoyed them. Dad just had the games on. I watched one day and it got my attention. That team excited me, David in particular. He could fly. And he crashed. And he made my heart stop on numerous occasions. He was amazing to watch and always entertaining. I was hooked.

Dad never had a preference of a college team (though for the pros he always loved the Boston Celtics). He simply loved a good game of college basketball. Dad would watch anyone....men or women, college or pros. I always said if midgets were playing basketball, Dad would be watching it. He loved the game.....and watching was our bonding time. We watched all of the ACC teams play. I always had preferences. Loving the Wolfpack, Hating the TarHeels.

But when time for college came, I realized I had to go to Carolina. There was no Broadcast Journalism program at State. My loyalty had to change. So it did. It was great timing. The Thompson years ended, the Jordan years began shortly after. I got my NCAA tournament win for college graduation,

I noticed Dad's lack of college team loyalty changed when I went to college. I believe he developed a preference for the Heels. Probably because it made me so happy. It tickled him that I not only went to nearly every game (three years home game perfect attendance and only a couple of games missed my senior year due to work.) I also went to practices. I'd tell him every detail when I came home....but even then he knew more than me. I had a class with Matt Doherty my senior year (his freshman) and we became Spanish class buddies. I had no clue he played basketball  (he had never mentioned it), until one day when I was looking at his feet and realized not only was he really tall, with basketball feet, and he also wore an AAU jacket. I went back to the dorm and called  Dad and asked if Carolina had recruited a freshman named Matt. He started telling me his whole history.,...and his stats.

Games back then were in Carmichael Auditorium and the environment was electric. The building vibrated. You were a part of it. There was nothing like it. When I asked Dad if he would like to go to a game with me, he said no. He preferred watching them at home, where no one would bother him (except a stray child now and again.) And where there were replays.

I always cheer for my TarHeels first, then (unlike most other Carolina fans) I cheer for other NC teams. Then come the other  "old" ACC teams. (Except Maryland. Because, you know. Defectors. And I used to love them, too.) I may then give a slight preference to the newbie ACC teams. Maybe. I still haven't fully accepted them, though. But after that, like Dad, just give me a good game. Though I don't have the same passion for it that Dad did....there are many I don't watch. Even during the regular season when Carolina is playing. I don't really like watching them alone (Dad never cared). And I love to go to games in person.

Dad would have loved South Carolina's team this year. He loved seeing teams come out of nowhere and play great basketball. He'd have loved my Tar Heels, too. I can hear his laugh and his shouts of glee....and frustration.  It made me sad when I realized this would  be the first tournament that we couldn't discuss. But then it occurred to me. This year he just may be watching with Dean Smith. I wish I could listen in on that conversation.

Own, Share, or Release

I formed a philosophy for myself some time back. If I have an issue with someone, it is my responsibility to tell them. If I don't, it's my issue and not theirs. I own it, if I am not willing to share it. Or abandon it.

My practice of this is somewhat spotty. Confrontation is difficult.....especially confrontation when you care about the other person. Oh, give me a stranger who is being a jerk and I usually bring it right on the table. I am a righteous fighter....if I notice mistreatment of others or if mistreatment of me means others are probably also treated poorly, I can't seem to keep my mouth shut. I learned how to speak my mind young, and it flows. My adult goal is that it be with kindness. I think my stats now run over 50%. Finally. Maybe. But still.....I am confrontational. When necessary.

There are subjects in my mind that I will think need to be discussed, because they continue to fester in my head. But do they, just because they come to my mind? If I really examine it, is the timing right? Is the person ready to receive it? Am I in the frame of mind where I can speak with love and not anger or frustration? Am I ready to invest in helping them?  Is it really a big deal (and doesn't just feel like one because I am having a bad day)? Is this a battle I pick to invest in? While sometimes the answer to these questions is no, if you are a human being who invests in others, sometimes the answer also needs to be yes. Yeah, life's complicated.

Often I must face the fact that perhaps I am the one who needs to truly own my reaction to the issue. I am the one that needs to change. I am the one who needs to give up my "right" to be right. Or let an issue just die on the vine. Or admit I am just cranky. Sometimes sharing is not what I need to do.

Honesty is not always the best policy. Whoever first said that was dumb. Whoever repeats it is dumber. I don't mean that it is good to be dishonest, because no.....I abhor lies. Lying is not good. But because it is truth does not mean it always needs to be spoken. And you...oh wise one...do not have to always be the truth teller of the universe.

Sometimes "honesty" piles on to an already overwhelmed individual and further ties them up in knots. It is like this pile of jewelry I have that I can't seem to untangle....so beautiful, but the more I try to get it back to rights, the worse it gets. I don't usually solve the problem when I try. My brain is not good at looking at a mangle of knots and figuring out how to remove them. As this is the case, sometimes I am not the person who needs to be the one saying certain things to certain people. Even if they are true, and everyone else thinks so. Sometimes I just need to cut off the jewel and forget about the tangled chain. Sometimes I just need to throw it away.

There are a few people in my life that can very bluntly tell me something (criticism) and from them I hear love. They help me with their critical, but loving, words.There are not many of these people. Very few, in fact. Most others will issue the same criticism and it simply hurts. It is of no help at all. Not because we don't have a good relationship....sometimes especially because we do. I can't put it in perspective because they tie me up in knots. It is not that the criticism isn't valid....it very often is. But still, it doesn't help. We may thank the person (because that is what you are supposed to do, right?), but try not to let them see the tears in our eyes or the dismay they cause in our hearts. Usually they are totally oblivious to the fact that we do not consider it a gift. Sometimes their criticism adds to the problem and pulls us further away from the solution because they embarrass us, make us feel like a total disappointment, add to our insecurity and the obsession we already have with the issue, or just say things in a way that cut deep. Often we feel as though we are tangled jewelry, a bunch of knots with no value and no hopes of solving the problem.

Still, I don't aspire to be the friend that tells you what you want to hear. You've got enough of those in your life, I am sure. You may catch me rolling my eyes when they speak to you, in fact. I try to speak truth with those I love. I try to not give baseless compliments or false flattery. I hope I am not the endless truth-teller, though. The friend that won't ever let their truth about you take a rest or go away.

Sometimes it is my job to simply keep my mouth closed and not jump in the pile-on of all of your imperfections that others so "generously" catalog for you. Obviously if you are in my life, I see value in you. Let's talk about that more than all the other stuff. While my responsibility may be to tell you if I think you are spinning out of control, or hurting yourself or someone else, or making choices without fully considering the consequences, usually that responsibility is one conversation initiated by me. When you may be ready to listen. When it might be helpful. Not to go on and on and on and make it the center of our relationship. Who needs that? Maybe you just need a hug as you try to get through this week or this mood or this problem. Maybe you need a reminder of all of the good you are in my life and in the lives of others, so you can clear your head and deal with the bad from a positive base. Maybe you need to talk about it all night long and I need to listen.Maybe we just need sleep and a new day.

There are times I get so caught up in myself and my need to point out what I have observed, that I don't see I have crushed someone until it is too late (if at all). I'm working on that.

Let's think before we speak to each other. Do we need to say the words, change ourselves, or release it and go on? Whatever it is, you own it. Until you share it. And "share" implies you continue to have some sort of responsibility to them....not just to throw a heavy weight on their back, but to help them carry it. Unless you need to drop it and leave it behind. And maybe help them do the same.

The Cherry Weeps.....But Then Blooms

My precious yard guy and I had a discussion last summer. My weeping cherry had fallen victim to some sort of tree disease that was going around. Trees all over town were hit. The greenery died prematurely.  He looked at it and said "It's dead, Kim. You're probably going to have to get rid of it."

I love that tree. It's the perfect size, the perfect shape. I love where it sits in my yard, right above my glorious quince bush. (I just found out the name of that bush this year thanks to my Facebook friends. They teach me things all the time that I can't easily Google.) Whoever landscaped my yard did a wonderful job. The idea of losing this perfect tree was inconceivable, I just couldn't. 

So I denied it. I wouldn't believe it. I declared it was still alive. He gave me that indulgent "OK....we'll wait for now, but you'll see."

So I waited. It had no leaves the rest of summer or through the winter. With the warm weather, the quince bush below bloomed. Amazing, vibrant orange. But the weeping cherry was desolate in comparison. No blooms there.

Then this week. I was in the car, pulling out of my driveway, and looked in that direction. I saw cherry blooms. Not the normal covering, but some. There are signs of life there. You have to look a bit closer, but it is beautiful. It seems to be getting better. The blooms seem to be increasing.

It's interesting to me that this happens as we begin the countdown to Easter.....the celebration of rebirth. Sometimes we are that tree. Sick and hit by outside and inside plagues. Worn down and tired and a bit dead inside. And worn out. Ugly. Purposeless. Trying to find our joy, but we just can't touch it. And those who look at us do so with pitying eyes that see the disease, that see the death, and doubt our possibilities. Sometimes we believe them. Sometimes that inner glimmer shines just a bit, defiantly, and we refuse to live as dead.

Then it happens. We start to bloom. We come to life. Slowly,  but surely, we fight the blight. Sometimes beyond us works to make us the gorgeous vision of what we were meant to be. Even we seem a bit surprised of the change.

I love the message of Easter. I'm starting to enjoy observing the season of Lent. Anticipation of the dead coming back to life. The renewal of our purpose. The death of winter turning to the blooming of spring.

I've felt a bit of the blight lately. Tired and rundown. Emotional and a bit purposeless. I've been challenged by several to observe Lent in some very positive ways. To give away my stuff that sits unused. Let it have new life in someone else's hand.

The ladies of my church are going to focus on the simple act of walking. Together and on our own. Adding the disclipline of action. Maybe praying as we go, for ourselves and each other and our world. Maybe communing with God. Maybe encouraging each other. Maybe letting God encourage us. Maybe celebrating our bodies and where they are now, and where they can be if we treat them well. Maybe looking around and seeing needs we can meet.

Some people use Lent to give up things that have a hold on them, Just 40 days of this self denial can give new perspective. Especially if you replace it with positive things that free you.

I'm someone who easily loses focus. I need to constantly reset. This is not a bad thing. It is who I am and I know it about myself. It is who most of us are, I believe. We have short attention spans and we are prone to wander. I eventually re-evaluate and recommit to living my purpose, even as that purpose changes. Sometimes just moving forward in faith, not sure where God is leading me. I'm at that place now. Feeling like change is coming, and preparing to embrace it. To set the fear aside and live life well.

God is here. He leads me to good things. He reminds me he is bigger than people. That ultimately he is in control. And that which worries me or paralyzes me is in vain. He shows me that this short life can be long and eternal. We all change this world forever.....the question is how. Do we improve it, make it worse, or increase the mediocrity?

For now that weeping cherry tree is not weeping. It blooms. It is adding beauty to the world. What is ahead for it? I have no clue. But for today I will celebrate it and be glad I wasn't hasty to remove it. It brings me hope and contentment and a reminder that the experts and those who give us their opinions are sometimes wrong. It makes me smile. Sometimes you need to go with your gut and live in anticipation of the gift of rebirth. Joy.

On Grieving

My dad died December 18.

The number one question I am asked these days is "How are you doing?" The second is "How is your mom?" (That may even be first....it's a close call.) Oh, I understand people asking and please don't feel guilty if you have asked it. I have asked it to other people myself, and I am sure I will continue to do it. It's fine. It's something to say. It's a point of connection. It shows you care. But when you ask, if I pause and say nothing for a while, or look back at you like a deer in the headlights, if I stammer and say something that doesn't make much sense, or just give a non-answer, please forgive me.

I have no clue how to answer the question. I haven't reached that point of self-awareness where I know how I am doing,. And I don't know what people are really asking. It never occurred to me before that I don't quite understand the  question, even when I was asking it. Am I supposed to answer it good, bad, or OK? (OK is usually my answer of choice, but do any of those words fit?) Am I supposed to give details of my grief? Explain it? That's something else I am not prepared to do. Am I supposed to answer in the context of how I'm doing compared to life before dad died? Will there ever be a comparison there that could explain? It's confusing....and I have no clue.  I have lost people I dearly loved before, but this is different. I have no experience with life on earth without my dad.

Basically, I am living my life. I work, I sleep, I spend time with friends and family. I try to regain normal. I suspect part of me is denying the reality. I do that with my great nephew Kaelan, too (who we had lost earlier in the year). Maybe a part of us has to let a piece of our brain go there. It's almost impossible to fathom earth without either of them. Dad was there every day of my life. Kaelan was supposed to be in it every day for the rest of my life. They are part of the very fabric of who our family was...and were so important to it. It's hard for the brain to grasp their loss. I guess I compartmentalize the thoughts in my brain and try to forget it. An escape from the reality. Is it really real? Maybe it didn't happen?

But then something will come up, like when I was taking a picture of the trees in my front yard during the snow and realized my yard looks rather bad. My trees need shaping, I think my butterfly bush needs to be cut down and my knock roses cut back. I had planned to plant more tulip and daffodil bulbs out front this year, and add a hydrangea bush to my yard. But when and where and how? I have no knowledge of that kind of stuff. I didn't need to. Dad knew it.

I have cried less than I would have thought. I usually cry easily. Possibly I haven't because Dad was not a crier. McKinneys as a whole are rather stoic and not known for gushing emotion. I've always had some of that in me, too. It could be because I am following in dad's example...how he acted when he lost his parents. Possibly it is the denial, but I don't usually deny it....part of me is always aware he is gone and misses him every minute. It could be shock or the weirdness of it all. If I am here on this earth, dad should be, too. He had been every day of my life. One of my constants.

Maybe it's just a continuance of the peace I felt throughout this process of his hospitalization. In the midst of the worse. Never have I had to lean on my faith more, but the peace I have felt through the process astounded me. God seemed so at one with me. Still, noticing God at work often makes me cry. And I haven't much. It confuses me. Doesn't worry me, but doesn't seem like how I would have thought I would have been.

It would have never occurred to me that the most part difficult part of losing my dad would be feeling so inadequate to help my mom. (I felt the same way when Kaelan died and left so many shattered.) I just don't know what to do. We're different, have led very different lives, and I can't really know what she is going through and what she really needs. Everyone has to get through grief in their own way. But thankfully she is taking care of herself just fine. Though life as she has known it for 60 years has been blown to pieces, Mom has been nothing short of amazing. She cries (though mostly when alone), and says she yells at my dad on occasion for leaving her, but then she puts one foot in front of the other and moves. Somewhere. Doing something. By necessity she will have to answer the question "So how do I live now?" I hope the answer to that takes her to great happiness and new adventure. I think it will. She is a good planner and a good decision maker and a vital person. She has a lot to give to this world. She is a people person and hasn't been on her own, ever. She's starting to think it through, to think of what she will need going forward. That's good and healthy. She does no honor to my dad by refusing to move. In fact, she honors the strength they built in each other by continuing to live well. He would want that for her.

One thing I know about grief.....none of us do it the same way. I think my siblings are handling dad's death similarly to me,  but yet not the same. Truly we don't talk about it much.  Not that it is taboo, but I think we understand each other so don't need to. Mom, our verbal parent, has probably gotten us each to talk about it the most, without even trying. But she doesn't push...and won't...and I suspect even she just gets a few sentencs from each of us here and there. That's enough.

Three friends of mine lost parents within weeks of me. We're all dealing with it differently. We all have different needs, different perspectives, different ways to grieve. If you are wondering how to help people grieving, know there is no special formula. Just be there. Don't avoid them. Try to see where they are. Ask them what you can do can help. Don't be surprised if you get no answer. Try to figure out what they need and help them through it, but meet them where they are. How you would handle things is probably not the way they will do it. We are all so different. And grief can make us weird. We may not even understand what is going on ourselves and why we react a certain way.

As for me... most times I don't want to have long conversations with you about it. We had six weeks of the horrors of intensive care hospital time before his death, and it was difficult, stressful, and all kinds of exhausting. Then hospice. Then death. I got sick hours before dad died and spent the days before the memorial service on my own. It was fine. God must have known the introvert needed to be forced to have alone time.

If you are my friend, I don't want you to stay away. There is no greater reminder that life is short than a parent dying. For me that means I want to live life. I don't want to sit around by myself and cry. I want my friends around. I want to laugh. I want to play. I want to try new things. I want the comfort of the old good things. I want hugs and love. I don't want to make a lot of decisions...so suggestions are great. I'm trying to engage, but sometimes the thought of it is exhausting. Someone telling me what we are doing is good. I will tell you if I don't want to or if the timing isn't right. You know me. I will exercise veto power.

The notes people have sent, the simplest of words comforting. The memorials to his life, so thoughtful and kind and sometimes imaginative. The flowers and plants. The texts. The phone calls. The stories people have told and words of what dad meant to them. People who showed up at the memorial service during a weekday, Christmas week, some just hearing about it hours before. So many other things they could have been doing, but they chose to be there for us. Reminders that our family is made up of more than shared blood. It all means so much.

So how am I doing? OK this minute. But it will be a long term adjustment. The number one man in my life is no longer around for me. The loss will be with me every day, for the rest of my life. But still, I will live. It's what I want....what God wants....and what Dad would want for me.

So....Maybe I Don't Like You

I'm currently frustrated with people. I don't like them much.

My current inclination is to hole up and not engage with other people at all (well, other than my family and a few close friends. That friends list gets shorter by the day.). I'd be a hermit of sorts. Stay home a lot and read or go out to hike in beautiful places of solitude. It would make life easier. It would be far less frustrating. It would be peaceful.

But I can't. That's not why I believe I am here. I believe we are here to engage in life and work together to create a good life for ourselves. A good life for everybody.. Our neighbors. All of our neighbors. Our community. Our world.

But there are days I simply want to give up.   Now more than any time in my life. People I have respected are supporting this rude, thoughtless, unloving, unkind behavior, and engaging in it way too often. It hurts my heart.

I don't like Republicans. I don't like Democrats. I don't like liberals. I don't like conservatives. I don't like people with opinions different than me. I don't like people who think exactly like I do. I don't like people with no opinions at all. I don't like those who speak up. I don't like those who remain silent. I don't like friends. I don't like strangers. I don't even like Christians...the folks who are supposed to be my brothers and sisters in Christ. Quite frankly, sometimes I dislike them most of all.

We have become such a rude, intolerant people. We spout, but don't listen....unless it is to slam the other speaker, for what we thought they were saying, because we certainly didn't listen beyond their first sentence. We take facts out of context and espouse them as truth. We do no fact checking. We speak far and wide on subjects on which we have not educated ourselves. We don't care whether what we are saying is right or wrong. We only care about scoring points and winning people to our side. It's all about the spin and the win. The manipulation. We know we are right.....and our minds will not be changed. There is little civil debate. It has been replaced by personal attacks and mocking and condescending attitudes. There is no thought that perhaps we don't know it all and maybe if we talked to people.....those who believe as we do, but also those who don't...we may learn something.

I don't want to hear your opinion about our new president because your emotion leads to the behavior already discussed. Your behavior has often rivaled his. Some of you will consider that a compliment. It is not meant to be. If you dislike his style, make yours different. If you like it, take a long hard look in the mirror. Are you really someone who respects this behavior and chooses it for your own?

 I wish it was just politics. But it is not. There just seems to be a "mean girl" attitude among both women and men. I despair of the kids being raised to hear some of you spouting off. I'd like to cover their ears.....and ban them from Facebook.

What completely breaks my heart is there are times I feel there is no one to talk to. No people who want to truly find solutions. Strong solutions that come as a collaboration of different thoughts, ideas, backgrounds, experiences, and education.. People who love learning they are wrong at times because it opens up their world and gives them more possibilities for solutions. People who want to make this world better, even if "better" may not be their current vision, or the vision they were raised to believe is "right".

We bury ourselves in our smart phones and in our small little social circles. We don't look up to see if we are about to mow someone down. And if we do, we don't care. It's their own fault. They shouldn't have been in our way. We have also forgot the most important part of an apology.....not to just utter the words, but to make a plan to not do it again.

I may not like you at the moment, but I will get over it. Because you are in my world and though I do not like you all the time, I do love you. Let's reconcile. Let's put away the personal attacks. Let's  not focus on our differences, but instead find common ground. Let's solve problems, one by one. Using all of our knowledge and experience. With open minds, but mostly open hearts. Letting kindness be the rule, and not the exception.

Look in the mirror.....who are you? Have you forgotten? What do you value? How should you behave?

I'm going for love, kindness, and reconciliation. Because I think those things are what will really change the world. Not a derogatory comment about someone's intelligence, weight, or hairstyle. Those make you look dumb. And I don't believe you really are. When it gets down to it, if more of us resolve to jump off the crazy train and act as mature and wise adults, something good can be accomplished. In spite of those who choose ridicule and unbalanced rants as their communication of choice.

I want to like you. Should I?