Turning the Town Teal

I was casual friends with a lady named Mary, who worked for the same company as I did.  I was working in sales in one of our field offices when she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer.  It was at stage 4 when diagnosed.  She'd been having abdominal pains for a while, and ignored them as long as she could.  Even after going to the doctor, ovarian cancer was not considered for some time.  Both of her parents had died of cancer.

She had surgery and chemo and returned to work.  I'd get reports along the way, sent a card, but was pretty uninvolved.  Then I transferred back to a job in our home office.   I saw Mary pretty regularly and would generally stop by and get updates on her condition.  

On one of those visits I found out that she was going to Duke for an appointment with an oncologist to talk about a bone marrow transplant.  At some point in the conversation I found out she was going alone.  She had a husband, a mother-in-law, and a teenaged daughter, but none were going with her.  I thought it was strange, but mostly felt that was the kind if appointment you didn't go to alone.  I offered to take the day off work and drive her there.  She agreed to let me.

I figured I would be in the waiting room reading magazines when she had her appointment.  To my surprise she asked if I would go in with her as she talked to the doctor,  This was in the early days of bone marrow transplants and they were highly experimental for ovarian cancer.   Mary barely said a word during the appointment. I started asking a lot of questions.  (Yes, never go alone to this type of appointment!)  I felt like she needed as many facts as possible.   The picture painted was bleak.   But still, there were no other treatment options. She had a 16 year old daughter.  To me it was her only possibility to live to see her daughter grow up.

When we were driving home I tried to go over everything with her that was said.  She hadn't comprehended much.  She asked "What should I do?"  I looked at her in disbelief.  "You have to do it," I said. "It is your only option." Those words haunted me later and sometimes still do.  Though looking at it logically, I still think it was the right decision....most of the time.

After that I couldn't help but be involved.  They started her intensive chemo right before Thanksgiving (to kill her bone marrow before they re-injected what they had harvested.)  I remember driving from Greensboro to Durham to see her before I went home for Thanksgiving with my family.  She was oblivious to all around her during that time, but I wanted her to know I came by.  I suited up (you had to be totally covered back then) and walked in her room.  She was lying in the fetal position, totally alone.  

I was shocked that her family wasn't there for her.  Actually I got angry.  My family would have never let me go through something like that alone.  I learned through Mary's illness that life can be very complicated.  I learned she often told them to stay away. She spent a lot of time alone through this process.  I think she was trying to protect them.  They did as she asked.  I don't think they should have.  But like I said, I learned it was complicated.  (Probably the subject of a future blog.  An interesting topic!)

Anyway, back to that rainy night before Thanksgiving.  I left Mary a note.  Told her I was there as she slept, I was praying for her, and would be back in a couple of days.  When I went back, she was in bad shape.  It was difficult to see.  But she was able to talk to me, and I felt like she was getting better.  And she was better on many visits.  Yet on another visit she looked at the point of death.  Another co-worker was with me on that one.  It shook us both up.  She was so pale she didn't look human.  She was talking to us, but not making sense.  Mary was scared....I could tell. I was scared.  In my fumbling for something to do or say, I started opening the mail that was on her table and reading it to her.  Christmas cards, get well cards.  It calmed her a bit.  The nurse finally came in and gave her a transfusion.  Not sure if it was whole blood or platelets.  What I am sure about is that it saved her.  She came back to life before our eyes.  We almost cried in relief.  Before we left that evening, Mary was able to carry on a normal conversation.  I became an even stronger advocate for blood and platelet donation, easy things people can do to totally bring back someone from the dead.  

Mary had a lot of good days and a lot of setbacks.  It seemed to be two steps forward, three steps back, for quite a while after that.  She remained pretty serene throughout.  We had good talks and she accepted God's will, whatever it would be.  Probably way better than I would have.  Sometimes she thought she would live, others she wasn't quite sure.  But she was happy with a chance at survival.

Mary lived a little over a year after her transplant.  Not all of that was good time.  Like I said, sometimes I wondered I'd I steered her wrong.  But really I know that as a parent she wanted to be there for her daughter and needed to do all she could to try to live.  And while she was not able to live to see her daughter graduate from high school, she was able to plan and pay for her daughter's graduation party.

I can't remember what year Mary died, but it has been around 15 years, I think.  Since that time it appears to me that very little progress has been made with the diagnosis of this disease.  While it's not usually a real fast growing cancer, because it's usually later stages before symptoms show up, often women get diagnosed too late.  There is no routine screening...a pap smear doesn't do it.

We have teal ribbons all over my home city of Statesville this week to draw attention to this disease that is so difficult to catch in the early stages.  Two ribbons are in memory of my friend Mary, whose life and death changed who I was and who I want to be. One of them is in honor of my niece Sara, who survives and gets to mother her three children and create new dreams for herself.  The 4th is in my own name, because I wanted to publicly say I'm on the team to fight this disease, and to educate women...and men....so together we can find better and quicker ways to diagnose and treat it.  

Please learn more about it, listen to your intuition when something doesn't seem quite right with your body, and listen to your friends when they talk about what's not feeling right with them.  Learn the symptoms many experience, learn the risk factors, but also know that as with most diseases one size does not fit all.  Talk to your medical provider and if you feel they are not taking you seriously, find a new one. You and your doctor (or other health provider) should be a team....and diagnosing what's going on takes you talking and them listening.  Even if you feel a bit silly saying "Something's not right and I don't know what it is"....say it anyway.

I really wish Mary would been more aware that both of her parents dying of cancer increased her odds and had learned some of the warning signs of cancer.  She didn't.  She was quite uneducated about it all.  If others in your family have had cancer, often it means you are at a higher risk.  But even those of you with no cancer in your family, know you can be the first.  It doesn't only happen in high risk families.  None of us are immune.  Get physicals, get screenings, pay attention to your body, and talk to your doctor/provider.  And help others going through it.....in whatever way you can.  As a first step, just by being there.  As a second, being educated. There are many Marys who can be saved.....I believe and I hope.  

If you haven't seen Hope's Wing's Faces of Cancer video, watch that.  It features some people I love and is very compelling.  (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAOj1wvB36w)

When I Pray For You....

I suspect that perhaps I pray for you a bit differently than some people do.  Let me confess right now.... I don't always pray that you are happy.  I don't always pray that all goes well with you.  I don't always pray that you win.  I don't pray with the perfect words, or sometimes even with a full attention span.  But I do pray continuously, because I like to watch God at work.

My prayer life changed when I started working with kids.  I worked at a children's home after college and at age 21 was hired to work with teenaged girls.  Teenaged girls are liars.  OK....maybe not all.  But a lot.  Especially those who have been abused and neglected most of their lives.  Teenaged boys can lie, too, but there is a difference.  Teenaged girls are good liars. It was a frustrating time.  I wanted so much for them to get on track and do the right thing, but often they did what they knew.  Acted from a warped brain.  It was beyond me to know when they were lying, and how to help.  I learned to pray.

So my prayers were "If (insert name) is headed down the wrong path, Lord please let her be caught.  Please let the consequences be severe enough that they get her attention and change her life."

I kept volunteering to switch and work with the teenaged boys at the home, who were prone to violence and had sent many a houseparent packing doing bodily damage to them.  They were very reluctant to put me in this position (and now I definitely understand why), but in an emergency one night they had no choice.  After that night, they agreed that I could work with the boys.  The boys were a bit easier.  They'd do things, but not cover their tracks well. They would sneak out at night.  At first that made me crazy and I would try to find them.  It was impossible.  One of my fellow houseparents reminded me that I was human and needed to sleep on occasion, so I learned to lock the windows when they had slipped out....and go back to bed.  They'd have to wake up the other boys to get back in the house.  I would pray "Lord, when (insert name) tries to get back in tonight make it difficult for him.  May he notice the impact of his actions on others.  May he desire sleep more than wandering.  If he runs to trouble, may every attempt be thwarted."  (I've always loved the word "thwarted"!). 

The anger these boys felt burned brightly and often went out of control.  I understood their anger.... they had been given a raw deal in their young lives.  But still, I knew that it wasn't in their best interest to let it fester for life.  My prayer for them was that it would be chipped away, until there was none left.  Praying about someone's anger is one prayer that has changed for me over time.  While I used to see anger as an emotion all on its own (and prayed it would just go away),I don't believe it is.  Now I believe that anger is fear disguised.  My prayer for the angry now is they would no longer be afraid....and that they would learn to know security, trust and confidence.  Not from the outside in, as I know the outer forces can sometimes be unstable in this world, but from the inside out.  From a confidence of the spirit that lives and grows inside them.

Working with youth groups in later years continued the prayers.  It's tough when you know what is going on and what has the potential to go on.  Some youth leaders feel like you give youth freedom.  I always felt that granting freedom was the right of their parents.  I felt like my job was to protect them from themselves and hold them a bit closer than their parents.  This could put us at odds.  When dealing with teens, often you strongly suspect things going on, but can't prove them.  You see such amazing potential, but you also see how fragile they are.  Some are teetering on the edge.  Many were self-centered and thoughtless and some even mean.  Many had emotions that were in over-kill.  My prayer "Lord, you know their hearts, love  them and want to use them.  May the voice of your spirit be strong in their ears and may they be compelled to follow you.  May they want to live in truth and kindness and calm and learn to hear your voice."

Moving back to my hometown, I was faced with the fact that I have an imperfect family.  It's easy to ignore when you live farther away.  While they are the perfect family for me, love me well, and I would choose no other, if they make bad choices or don't choose to live with integrity and truth and purpose and responsibility, it is heartbreaking.  On one hand I feel it shouldn't impact me much, since I believe we own our own actions.  But for some reason it matters.  You become disappointed. It is easy to be frustrated and angry with them, because you above others know their gifts and potential.  Yet you cannot live their lives for them.  One option is to distance yourself, but I (usually) like them as well as love them and want to be part of their lives.  And what if they did that to me?  Cut me out of their lives because I made bad choices?  I can't imagine life without each and every one of them.  I instead choose to trust that God loves them even more than me and He will not let them go.  I am relentless in praying that when they do wrong, it will be exposed.  (Yep...woe to them that I love!)  But I also pray that God will continue to shape them, change them and use them and they will be molded into people after God's heart.  

I love that the Bible is not a sanitized storybook, but instead the life stories of imperfect people.  It gives us hope or who we can become and how high from the depths we can rise.  That's what I want for those I love, that they will grow and create an amazing life story.  One that will inspire generations.  That they will know themselves but still love themselves, that they will live in the light and not in darkness, that they will not just take up space on this earth, but will leave the world better than they found it.

I love the freedom that God gives.  I believe that is the gift of Jesus....that we are unbound and free to choose who or what we will follow.  There are consequences to our choices.  The older I get, the more I appreciate it.  Especially since I think the church often lives in fear and wants to bring back bondage.  But prayers should be living and active.  They should be messy and sometimes reflect our sin and stupidity.  That's evidence we are praying without ceasing.  God wants us to talk to Him and we don't have to wait until we know what He wants before we ask what we want.  The prayers we pray are way less importance than the answers.  In the answers we see God may not be who we thought He was.

I am not someone who tries to protect God from truth, but someone who throws it all at His feet.  It's my responsibility to pray.....to dialogue with God.  Mercy is not always what is in my heart... often justice is.  But really, do I want my own idea of justice to rule the world?  Do I want that to be the standard that God applies to me?  Yeah, often I do....but I know that is arrogance showing.  But while God is a God of justice, He also is a God of mercy and grace.  I want that applied to me, and also to others.  God does answer our prayers.  Every one of them.  Yes, no or wait.  We don't always want to acknowledge the answer, but when we do we learn a bit more about how God works in this crazy, sinful world of humans.

So when I pray for you (and I probably do), know sometimes you will not like what I say.  I may not pray that you get what you want.   Sometimes (begrudgingly) I will pray that I not get what I ask for either.  (Even when I beg.)  Instead I pray we get what we need (Stones to the Rock!).  But not our own opinions of need...the need as God sees it.  

As God answers our prayers, I pray we can't help but notice who He is and what He is up to....and that it changes who we are.  Prayer is active and powerful and life changing.   

I do pray for you, like it or not!  And sorry, but I will not respect a request to not talk to God for you and about you.  You just come up in the never-ending conversation. You don't have to agree, but I think God is at work in you and around you.  And I like paying attention.

Sharing Your Stuff - And Giving Life

 "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well."  Psalm 139:14 

"Don't think of organ donations as giving up part of yourself to keep a total stranger alive.  It's really a total stranger giving up almost all of themselves to keep part of you alive."  Author Unknown

"We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give."  Winston Churchill

"You can't live a perfect day without doing something for someone who will never be able to repay you."  John Wooden
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My friend Becky's son Shane went home from the hospital yesterday.  He took with him a brand new pancreas and kidney.  Well, actually not new.  They have been gently used. Someone chose to share their life even beyond death and was his organ donor.  Because of that priceless gift, Shane will probably no longer be diabetic and will no longer have to be chained to a dialysis machine.  His life was changed.....in a matter of hours.  Instead of getting weaker from the effects of his disease, he will be getting stronger every day.

We often don't like to talk about our own mortality....and so sometimes talking about organ donation makes us a bit uncomfortable.  But I hope you read this and share this....and if you aren't already an organ donor and donation advocate, I hope you become one.

A few facts (from www.organdonor.gov):

• Someone is added to the organ donation list every 10 minutes.
• Each day an average of 79 people receive organ transplants; however, 18 people die each day because there is no organ available to them.
• As of December 2010, the ethnicity of the National Waiting List was 45% White, 29% black, 18% Hispanic and 7% Asian.  While donors of all ethnicities are registered on a fairly proportionate basis to the population, some ethnicities are more prone to diseases that lead to the need of transplants. While donations cross ethnicities every day, blood and tissue matches are often better for people of the same ethnicity.  So while donors of all races are very important, black, Hispanic, Asian, and mixed race donors are especially needed on the US registry.
• One organ donor can save up to eight lives.

 

If you aren't one of the 100 million who have agreed to let their organs help others in the event of their death, please consider joining us.  It is easy to sign up.  Here is a link to the state registries.   http://organdonor.gov/becomingdonor/stateregistries.html   (Friends in other countries, if you can't find where to sign up, let me know.  I'll bet I can find it!)

Lest you think that me signing that organ donation card was easy, let me tell you the truth.  I said no at first.  The idea of it freaked me out.  It took me some time to think it through and let my logic conquer my emotions.  I still was a bit nauseous when I signed the card and gave my consent.  But that's OK.  I finally came around and had peace about it.  Now years later I have confidence in that decision.   If you are struggling, talk to someone about it or at least commit some time to research and think about it.  Don't avoid the issue.  Make an educated decision.

Some very special people don't wait until death to donate.  My friend Jen was one of them. She decided to donate a kidney to a stranger by going to a website, reading profiles of people with her blood type, and picking someone listed there. The first time was a charm.  They were a match.  Renee lives and thrives because of her decision.  I love their story.  I am proud and still in awe of Jen's gift.  It's been three years since it happened.

Everyone does not have the calling of Jen (for instance, me!)  There are less dramatic ways to be a living donor. You can get on the bone marrow registry by a swab of your cheek.  Those expecting babies, consider donating that cord blood as a special baby gift to the world.  Donating platelets takes a couple of hours of your life (though you can do it quite often!). You sit in a comfy chair and watch a movie, and get snacks afterward.  Hardly a difficult sacrifice.  Donating blood takes even less time.  Scared of needles? Squeamish? You're not alone.  The truth is you may go through a bit of discomfort.  As a blood donor since I was a 16-year-old student at North Iredell High, and a platelet donor for quite a few years too, I still have those moments I have to divert my mind or my eyes so as to not let that squeamish side of me rule my body.  I have come out with major bruises, I have left a puddle of blood at the refreshment table, I have fainted multiple times....but still I continue.  Why?  Somewhere on this planet people live because something I had more than enough of, and could replenish quickly, left my body and now flourishes in theirs. How cool is that?  Any discomfort is worth it!  What a privilege to be healthy and be allowed to donate.  Surely one of the reasons I was created.

Our bodies are so very amazing and sometimes there is just no man-made substitute for its parts.  God's work is best.  The day that you die, our world will never be the same.  I hope you live a very long life, because there are so many things for you to do, but we don't come with a guarantee of years.  You are unique, you are special.  Your body, your self...it's precious.  But you are mortal. And isn't it better when you share your stuff?

What if this choice to share will unchain someone from a dialysis machine, help the blind see, help someone breathe, help someone play tag with their child or help someone to be able to support themself and go to work every day?  What's normal to you, would be a great luxury to them.  How would you like to know that when you are through with your body, instead of letting it just decay, you can give up to eight people new life?  It will cost you nothing yet it will be priceless for the recipient and those who love them.....and an encouragement to all who hear about it. After death you can continue to give life.  

Thank you all who have made the choice to be an organ donor.  It's a great way to continue the circle of life.  But don't let it be your little secret.....talk about it.  Let everyone know it is your choice.  In the event of your death, don't make those who love you and are grieving for you wonder what choice you would make.  Let them put your plan into action and get those organs to those who need them as soon as possible.

Also, tell the stories of people like Shane.  Start conversations.  Let those struggling with the decision know there is someone they can talk to about it.  I don't believe that organ donation should be done under any sort of compulsion, but instead because it is your choice.  One you believe in.  Because you want a great guy like Shane to live a life that is more full, more vital and full of hope.  So you can ease the fears of those who love them, like my amazing friend Becky and Shane's precious boy Caleb.  That body you were given....it was a temporary gift that will be of no use to you one day.  A beautiful and amazing creation.  Something that serves you well now.  When you no longer need it, perhaps it can serve others.

On Independence....or Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness

I'm someone who probably has a rather strong streak of independence by nature.  From the earliest times I resented someone telling me what to do.   But I always have liked that side of myself, and also always known that I was able to be free in many things because I had a great safety net.....family and friends who love me and would be there when needed.

For my life, freedom has been my greatest gift.  Give me rules, and I spend all my time trying to decide how to push them to the limit.  Funnily enough, I also hate cheaters who break rules outright.....they make me angry.  Especially when these rules are laws.  Yeah....those who know my respect of speed limits can probably point out my hypocrisy here.  But I do accept my punishment when caught.... and I have gotten better over the years!  Overall, though, I try to respect even the stupid laws.  And I try to get them changed through the system we have set up.  Which is often cumbersome, difficult and seemingly unmovable.  But yet also good in concept.

If I consider them "stupid rules" I often simply ignore them.  I only allow this in myself when the rule maker is misusing their position or is not really in authority over me.  Like at church when I am supposed to stand or put my hands in the air, even when I don't want to at the moment  or feel that the Spirit  of God moving me to do so.  I call that Christian aerobics and I have not signed up for that class.  I often feel it is more about the person leading worship than the Spirit of God...so it frustrates me.  Yet in another way I do understand it.

I often have difficulty at church anyway. There often gets to be a lot of negative messaging that seems based on the sin areas other people need to work on.....and not so much about our own sinfulness.  I think we have that reversed.  But really....I'd so much rather talk about the ways you are falling short, so often I don't argue with or question that approach.  Yep, the sinner in me.  So yeah...I understand that, too.

I love the verse that says that it is for freedom that Christ set us free.  We often forget that.  I think it is because God knows our authentic relationship with Him is found in our heart.....and not by the dumb things we say or do.  Often they are the result of external forces... our world...or the inner turmoil as we fight our natural inclination to live selfishly.  Churches should be places where we are reminded that we have a tendency to sin, that our hearts can be deceptive, and that a close relationship with God (the Father, Son and Spirit) is our goal.  When we know God more, and know His care for us, we naturally do the things that please Him.  I remember a quote I heard when I was a teenager "if we spend our time doing the 'do's we don't have time for the 'don't's." That gave me a spiritual freedom that made my faith more freedom-based and has become a philosophy I return to when my life is out of balance.  So, what should I be doing?  Watching where God is going and following, growing the fruits of the spirit, aiding a Samaritan.  There are enough "do"s to last our whole lives.

Today is Independence Day.....so much more than the 4th of the month.  I love that our country was built by the desire for independence.  I think perhaps our founding fathers probably had some limits in mind based on their own desires and proclivities.....and I think my limits may be different than theirs.  But still....what beautiful words, what a beautiful concept.  I believe that freedom is a right with the only boundary being behaviors that interfere with the freedom of others.  And yes, I recognize that to be a difficult concept to administer. I see the choice that God gives us daily to follow Him or not, and I see that as the perfect freedom we should try to imitate.

For myself, I know freedom has saved my life time and time again.  Being given the choice, I am able to think before I choose, to not act like just a sheep or a rebel...learn and find truth and identify lies.  I don't always make the right choice, but when I look to God I see the safety net he throws out to me.  He knows ultimately I will want to return to the one that I love.  I will return to equilibrium and truth where I will find peace and contentment. And God is neither supportive or surprised at my mistakes....but always forgiving when I recognize them and find myself ashamed at who I can be.

As much as I travel the world, and though I feel that there are other amazing countries out there whose people I love and respect, I still love returning home.  Though not perfect, my country is still the land of the free and the home of the brave.  Not that I really feel all are free and brave here.  But many are.  This country is another safety net for me.  Established for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, in spite of whether the path of our neighbor is the same as ours.  Easy to say, hard to administer.

Oh....and if you haven't read the Declaration of Independence lately, maybe you should.   Because you have the freedom to do so.  It is not required.  And you can either agree or disagree, but really.....it is the heart of who we are.  If you don't love our country, shouldn't you find one you do respect and live there...or work to change this one in a peaceable and respectful way?  There's some harsh criticism in the Constitution about government and authority.  Some that I think we may have out of balance today.  But we are united together and I like to hope we will ultimately put our own self interest ahead of that of others.  That is what will continue to make us a great nation.  We just may need to get back our equilibrium.

As our flag flies, I think of the blood that has been shed for our freedom, the conceptual purity of those beliefs that our country was built upon, and our stars....not just the states, but the people whose character stands out (or has stood out) and make this such a great nation.  It has endured much, it has taken much abuse, but it still stands.  It stands for freedom.  Even the freedom we find distasteful.  Most choose to exercise that freedom for amazing purposes - to give people the choice to find God, to exchange ideas that can make us think differently and make better choices, to learn, to grow, to laugh, to cry, to protest, to respect, to work, to endure and to build our faith.  That is an amazing thing.  But I will also support the right for those to be free whose ways I don't understand.  Because even though it does not always lead to people making the right choices, ultimately I believe in independence. It means you may not agree with your neighbor.....but you will give your all for their right to be free.  You are my safety net and I am yours.  I wish you freedom for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.   I hope you wish me the same.

http://www.archives.gov/exhibits/charters/declaration_transcript.html

Watching Dad Work

From my earliest memories, I remember my dad working.  Not only working, but working hard.  At whatever he did.  I think that is one of the things that most defines who he is.  He is focused, and will not stop until the job is done.  He expects the same in others and while is laid-back about most things, has never understood when others do shoddy work or work with less passion.

There were times I probably wished this was not the case, because it was also the expectation that his children work just as hard and gee, that is difficult for the daughter whose mind can stay focused at times, but other times would prefer to be in fantasy-land!

While I often did not see Dad "on the job", I did see him at work at home.  I saw him doing yard work, sweat pouring off of his body (Something I believe all of his children inherited from him....we sweat.  Yuck.  Thanks Dad!)  

The job was always the focus.  It certainly wasn't wardrobe.  Thankfully we don't embarrass easily in our family or we would have been mortified at the time we looked out to see him mowing the lawn in cut off work pants, no shirt (but hairy chest), red suspenders, black ankle socks, and slip on canvas shoes.  In fact, to be honest, not only was I not embarrassed it is one of my favorite dad memories.  (In fact, I probably have mentioned it before.) I think perhaps Mom was a bit mortified, but even she had to laugh.  That's our dad and the man she married!  (Obviously there was no homeowner's association during those days, or possibly we would have been cited because surely there would have been an ordinance against it.  Or he would have led to its creation!)

My dad has listened to my work tales over the years and has been one of my best advisers.  While sometimes we think he does not think about things like office politics, when he was working in jobs that were more corporate in nature he recognized the writing on the wall.  If your boss was displaced and you were put in their position, know that at some point it could happen to you.  There always needs to be a realistic view of things and a recognition that things really aren't personal.  Decisions are often made that, when broken down, are made sometimes for arbitrary reasons and others for reasons that are for business purposes without recognition of what they will do to people on a personal basis.  That's just the way it is.  You need to plan for those times.

While my dad is an engineer by education, much of his work life was spent working in family businesses.  He worked with his dad and his brothers in their heating and air conditioning business for years and then went into a construction/real estate/property management business with his brother Darrell.  They were a good team.  Dad's engineering skills came in handy as they built apartments and solved those backroom types of problems.  My uncle Darrell was more of a people person and paid attention to the relational side of the business.  Both could be stubborn, both were opinionated, but whatever the disagreement neither of them were the types that held a grudge.  They would reach a decision and go on.  He worked with some of his other brothers over the years, and you would see the same sort of interaction.  I think my siblings and I inherited this trait from those McKinney men.....and it is one I most appreciate.  The way that family should not only work together, but be in general.  You speak your mind, and you go on.  You don't carry it with you into the future.  Love unconditionally, lived out in the real world.  Or maybe short memories.

The engineer part of my dad has also always been a part of him, and is another thing he passed on to us.  He approaches a problem by taking a look, tearing it apart (either mentally or physically), and putting it back together again.  Emotion is not part of the equation....it's mostly science.  While I don't do as well about keeping emotion out of things, I did inherit the ability to step back from it as I look at the issue.  I am different...I throw the emotion back in at the end.  But the problem solving skills have definitely come in handy in life, and I am glad that I learned from a great teacher.

He has always loved work so much, I used to wonder if he would ever be able to retire.  While he hasn't stopped working completely (he still is involved in the family business...Myrtle Place Apartments...if anyone you know needs an apartment recommend them!), he has stepped back and taken some time for retirement.  I am grateful that he is healthy and strong (despite a bad back!) and that he still teaches us that hard work is a gift in itself and the best way that a good life is earned. 

Graduating Into Happiness

Today I went back to my old high school for my niece Taylor's graduation. It has been 35 years since my own graduation day.  I know!  I can't believe it either!  I am much too young for that to be the case. 

I loved high school.  I had great friends, I liked most of my teachers (I was friends with some, had adversarial relationships with some, and others I just endured), and I liked learning.  While I know there were times of teenaged angst, most of my memories were great ones.  I remember a lot of laughter.  I remember a lot of good times.  I remember feeling accepted (at least by the people I wanted to be accepted by!) and feeling like I was a part of things.  Imagine my surprise when I found out that all of my friends didn't feel the same way at all!

I didn't learn this until my 10th reunion.  It seemed most of the people I had conversations with talked about what a horrible time of life that was and how they would never go back.  Even some of those people who were my closest friends.  By the end of the evening I wondered if I was the only one who had fun.  My best friend from 4th grade through high school, Carole Kunkle Page, wasn't at that particular reunion so afterwards I called her and asked "Did you like high school?"  She responded "Of course I did!  We had so much fun!  Remember the time..." and then she proceeded to recall some of our favorite high school memories.  At a pause in the conversation I said "Guess what?  We were the only ones having fun!"  Yes, we laughed.  We may have been living in a bubble of naiveté, but even then we knew that it wasn't a bad place to be.  There were plenty of things we could have worried about during those years, but I think we made a choice for things to be good and simply ignored the things that cause most teens struggle.

We often scorn naiveté in this life, but I think perhaps it is the secret of happiness (be it authentic or selective.)  Think someone is talking about you?  If you choose to assume "No, of course they are not!", it can negate a lot of worry.  Because really, does it matter?  What's that Dr. Seuss quote I love so much?  "Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind?" (I have actually heard this is not a Dr. Seuss quote....but I will choose to ignore that for now!)

Think someone doesn't respect you the way you deserve?  When you're not thinking about them and your focus is on respecting yourself, you find it is something you can do something about.

Think that the cool kids are having way more fun than you are?  When you think you are the cool kids, you sort of feel sorry for all of the rest of them that aren't getting to do all of the cool things that you are doing.  (LOL....like blogging on a Saturday night!)

Think there is some drug or some drink that is going to give you superpowers and make you cool, suave and in control?  Hmmmmm.....take a look around at those who are trying to make it happen.  Fail!  You are quite cool, suave and in control all on your own.  I promise.  And if you aren't...."those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

I love teenagers.  I love college students.  I am fortunate to spend a lot of time with both.  I'm also fortunate that many are quite honest with me, about what they think, who they are, what they believe, what they do, and what they don't do.  I see myself in almost all of them.  Not much has changed really....in them or in me.  Often they are my biggest inspirations because they have a passion and an enthusiasm for life that is contagious.  And then there are the ones who don't....they usually are quite sad and troubled.

I had an intense side at that age.  I had a side that was insecure and felt like I didn't quite measure up.  I often felt unattractive, fat, gawky, and awkward.  I was smart, but always had the fear that I couldn't be smart enough....or I felt that I was a nerd and "normal" kids didn't think about the stuff that I thought about. Other times I did feel smart.  I felt that I was special.  I felt loved and cared for and knew that I had friends (and family and teachers) who supported me.  I felt fortunate to be me....and proud to be me.  I was crazy passionate about everything.....good, bad, or indifferent.  It all seemed to matter so much.  I volunteered, I participated, I lived high school life. 

The truth is, that girl is still here underneath.  The girl who walked across the stage and picked up that diploma hasn't changed much at all.  She still is a mixture of all kinds of good things and bad.  But when it gets down to it, I still choose to be naivé.  I still choose to think people are basically good (even though they can make big mistakes.)  I want to be someone who sees people succeed when they get a second chance (or a 10th.)  I still choose to try to ignore the angst and hope it goes away.  (Often it does.)  I still have teachers (be they bosses, politicians, friends or family) who I am friends with, who I am adversaries with, and who I simply endure.  They have their place....the good impact my life, the bad I choose to ignore.  I still love to learn.  Ultimately, I still choose to find the fun.  Why spend the bulk of your life in misery?

I am beginning to see a lot of friends die.  It used to be a rare occurrence, but it happens way too often now.  Sometimes as I reflect on those we have lost, I surmise that someone not only didn't have fun in life, they didn't really fulfill much purpose on this earth.  I find that to be tragic.  I think it is a betrayal of our creation. Not that I think we have to live lives of high intensity at every moment....personally I can't handle that and I don't think that is God's plan for most of us.  But to live a life by thoughtful design, a life we are proud of, a life that celebrates our gifts and our interests and our loves and our God.  That to me is our goal.  

The graduates that walked that stage this morning are at an exciting time of their life.  They are designing their days.  But you know something?  So are you!  While you may choose to be selectively naivé to enhance your own enjoyment of things, don't be naivé about life.  Live it purposefully, proudly and as if it will end tomorrow.  It really could.  Was the person you were today the one you want remembered?  If not it's time to move that tassle to the other side and graduate.  Tomorrow has a lot of opportunity just waiting for my niece Taylor, my goddaughter Shannon, my friends Amanda, Avery, Bethany, and Ciara...and for you!
 

A Normal Day?

Before I went to bed last night our local paper, the Record and Landmark, posted on Facebook that there was a wreck near my neighborhood where two people were killed.  They did not yet have identities of those involved.  I said a quick prayer for their loved ones and those public servants who were dealing with the accident, and my next thought was "I hope it wasn't anyone I know."  Made me pause when I realized it....as though the life of someone I didn't know would have any less value and be any less of a tragedy.  I went to bed, shaking my head a bit at myself.

I go to bed and I woke up about 4 this morning with a paralyzed neck.  You know....when the pain sears through you if you move it one iota.  But you know you need to move it, and tiny micro-movement by tiny micro-movement you do it.  Ouch!   Not sure why it does this....possibly because I lay completely still and don't move it.  (And never replace my pillows as as they say you should.)  The pain, and interruption of  my sleep, was annoying and unappreciated.

I finally went back to sleep for a bit and when I woke up the next time, I just felt at peace.  My neck was still a bit stiff (still is....15 hours later), but I felt good.  And happy.  And content.  And ready to start the day.  So I did.

I signed on to my work computer and my mind started thinking about all of the things I had to get done.  While the computer was booting up, I glanced at Facebook.  It was then I found out that my friend Dorothy's husband had been one of the people who was killed in the accident.

My stomach immediately did flips (the bad kind) and it seemed to cast a surreal pall over the day.  Not only was Dorothy's life forever changed, but our community was forever changed by the loss of this bear of a man who was bold and brave and a presence wherever he went.  Woody was a world changer...and kept fighting to change it more every day.....and our world is changed without him.

Our world was no less changed, I am sure, by the other lady killed in the accident, who was a 65-year old kindergarten assistant at the elementary school up the road.  Someone still spending much of her life impacting young children.

But...today our world was also changed by the birth of another friend's grandson Ryker.  And another friend who KNEW her grandchild was going to be a boy (because Ashleys always have boys!), found out she was going to have a granddaughter.  Both events made me smile.

Today we also celebrate the first birthday of Mason, a little boy who has fought and fought for life this year.  It's also my friend Brenda's birthday.  And yesterday was the 3rd anniversary of her death.

I worked, and accomplished and got through the day.  It was a horrible day.  It was a wonderful day.  It was a normal day.  It was a day that the world rotated on its axis, but maybe with a microscopic jerk or two.  Drama happening all around us.  Moments created we will never repeat, we will never get back.  Often we don't notice them because we're not looking around... we're stiff necked and moving creates pain so we don't move.  But we must.  Because as we continue to move, life continues to happen.  The drama of life is precious and worth experiencing and celebrating.  And our time on this earth is way, way too short.  Twist that neck and notice where you are needed now.  Don't waste a moment.

Watching Mom Work

Our mom was in nursing school in Wales when she met our dad.  After four dates (at age 19 I believe it was) she quit school, moved to the US, and married him.  Yes, that is a bit surprising and she would have been horrified if one of her own children had done the same.  But that proved to be a really great decision.  (My guess is that she was driven by a premonition that she was going to get me as a daughter.)  Her destiny was to be a wife, a mother, a grandmother, and a great-grandmother.  And a nurse.

Where Mom worked...and birthed 4 children!

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Though she left nursing school behind back then, Mom's interest in medicine didn't stop.  When she had jobs, they were working for doctors and at the hospital.  We all had nurse's kits and doctors kits when we were growing up and spent our childhoods giving "shots" to each other.  (We were never good at "Operation" though.  That wrenched ankle was a bear to get out!)

Finally, though, she decided to go back to nursing school.  No small feat....all five of us kids had been born by that time and because she was always a very involved parent, it added a lot on top to an already heavy load.  But she did it.

Her nursing career was definitely an interesting one.  After graduation, she started work at Iredell Memorial Hospital.  Have you noticed the nurses in hospitals?  Bed after bed of patients, all needing care, and never enough time to do it all. She would run her feet off for those shifts.  It's often a thankless job.  The doctors often get the accolades and the credit for the healing, but often it wouldn't have happened without an alert nurse on the scene.

For years she worked in home health.  She made her way all around Iredell County as a home health nurse, getting to know all of the roads in the remotest areas of the county.  Often having no idea what she would find as she went into a household.  She encountered people who were rude and made her job more difficult.  She went to homes that didn't have indoor plumbing.  She cared for AIDS patients when little was known about the disease, but when people who had it were often treated as less than human.  Ignorance abound and many in the medical profession would even refuse to treat people with AIDS.  But that was not how she lived her life.  They were sick, they needed care, and she was a nurse.  It was her job to take care of them and do it with compassion.   With courage.  Because it was the right thing to do.

She was the first nursing coordinator for Hospice in Iredell County.   More is known about hospice these days, but that was the early years when it was still a strange concept here.  For those who are unclear, the patients that are referred to Hospice are those thought to be at the end of their life.  Their needs are not only physical, but also emotional.  While we have a wonderful hospice house in our county now, back then all care was given at home.  Needs of these families do not happen on a schedule. Often she got called out in the middle of the night or on the weekend, and often calls came at inopportune times. For example, one Christmas morning when my dad's family was coming over for lunch.  My dad is one of ten children, so these family gatherings were huge.  My mom got a call that morning that one of her patients was not doing well.  She had to go.  His wife was scared and didn't know what to do and needed support.  We all knew that was the priority...and we all had to spring into action to do the things that she would have done.  There were mounds of potatoes that needed to be peeled, last minute cleaning to do and all of the last minute details to pull it all together.  Mom had given us a quick list as she was walking out the door of what needed to be done to get things ready.  She went to comfort and care for a family whose Christmas Day was full of sickness and sadness.  It was another example of her teaching us what is "urgent" and what is "important."  We knew she had a higher calling that morning and as her family we had to support her.

Mom's also worked as a chemo nurse.  Another place of both hope and sadness.  For nurses a place of great stress.  Compounding those chemo drugs required great knowledge and great accuracy.  I know that used to always worry her, but she worked laboriously at the math skills it required, checked and double checked and made sure it was all just right.  It also requires a lot of sticking veins with needles, often when veins are difficult to find and hit just right.  But she was really good at that and could find and hit a vein where others couldn't.  It required cheerleading when patients were down, but also when things were going well.  She always was trying to think about how she could make that whole experience better for her patients.

Of course, I have firsthand knowledge of the kind of nurse my mom was.  She nursed all of us when we were sick and there is no one better.  She knows when you need her, and when you just need time alone.  When we were young and very sick, we got comic books and got to drink soda (a rarity in our Kool Aid and milk household.)  If she thought we were faking to get out of school, she very compassionately said that it sounded like we needed extra rest, so we should just stay in bed all day.  Which in the days of no TVs in your bedroom, meant a day laying in bed doing nothing.  If we were really sick, we were willing to do just that (though generally she would let us off the hook and let us lay on the couch with a blanket and watch tv when she decided we were not faking.)  Truth was we often had a miracle recovery.

You can seldom go anywhere with my mom without at least one person coming up to her and thanking her for what she did for them when she was their nurse, or more often thanking her for how much her caring for their loved ones was appreciated by their family.  Sometimes she doesn't remember the family member, but she almost always remembers her patient.  But should she not, it would not be surprising.  She cared for many, many people during her career.

(L to R) My sister-in-law Beth, my brother Scott, Mom and Dad

This week my brother Scott graduated from nursing school.  During the pinning ceremony, he was pinned with the same pin our mother was pinned with when she graduated from nursing school when he was still in elementary school.  He has inherited her compassion, and has been taught how to share it, and will be a wonderful nurse.  I suspect he says she is his greatest teacher, and he has learned from the best. We learn from how our parents live their everyday lives before us.  They don't always even realize they are teaching.  But they are...even in the attitude they show while doing their job (be it a good attitude or a bad attitude.)  While Mom said she wasn't sure she wanted us to go into nursing because it was such a difficult profession, the truth is that she showed us that it is among the noblest.  I know she is proud of Scott's decision...and the work ethic he displayed in preparing for it when he was in school.  We are all a bit in awe of nurses and are glad he is turning into part superhero. (And OK...I admit it.....I am also a nurse's biggest critic if I don't see them with the same kind of attitude and energy and kindness and empathy that my Mom had when she was working.  My standards and expectations for them are high.)

Happy Mother's Day Mom!  Thank you for teaching us compassion and that all the people around us are worthy of care.....even when they are sick and unpleasant and everyone else avoids them.  Regardless of their religion, disease, lifestyle or the color of their skin.  Thank you for working hard and tirelessly and being dependable as you did it.  Without even realizing it, as we saw you work, you taught us how to love people as God does. That was a seed that continues to grow and will change the world for generations to come.

The Girl of the Meadow and the Lady of the Freshly Cut Grass

"Every tree and plant in the meadow seemed to be dancing, those which average eyes would see as fixed and still." - Jalal ad-Din Rumi

"A lawn is nature under totalitarian rule". - Michael Pollan

I push mow my grass.  For several reasons.  One reason is that heretofore I have been too cheap to buy a riding mower.  To tell you the truth I have never even ridden a riding mower, so there is probably also a bit of intimidation there.  Mostly, though, decided that I am healthy enough to push mow it, I get exercise when I do, and when I bought it (right after I purchased my house), it seemed the best decision for my budget.  But I had no clue my yard was as large as it is until I mowed it for the first time.  It seems never ending.  Mowing is a fairly big project...it takes over two hours.  Time that is precious to me.  Also, I am allergic to almost everything outdoors....including grass.  Often after mowing I end up with headaches or wheezing or just generally feeling bad.  I don't usually hate mowing, but it gets to be a burden.  One that never seems to end.

I live in a neighborhood full of beautiful lawns.  Most of my neighbors really care about how their yard looks, and invest much time and money to see that it is looking its best.  I have a feeling I am their nightmare.  I don't feel the same passion.  Often the only reason my yard gets mowed is that I don't want to be a bad neighbor.  Grass that gets a bit high doesn't bother me nearly as much as I suspect it bothers them.

My lawn is also full of what others would call weeds.  That doesn't bother me, either.  The neighbors, who try to keep their grass weed free, probably scowl at the idea of the seeds and spores my plants send through the neighborhood.  The weeds seem much sturdier than my grass, and stay greener longer.  They also create beautiful flowers all over my lawn...which make me hurt a bit every time I mow them down.  Yesterday I actually felt a bit of pain as I mowed over a dandelion, whose head was perfect for making a wish before I blew it away.  Does the same concept work when it is mowed down?  Will the wish come true?  I don't think so....I believe the wishes only come true if the fluff dances in the breeze.

Was talking to a guy last year that is an admitted yard snob.  He can poetically describe the perfect way to prune the branches of a tree.  Really, he could talk about it for hours...if the person he is talking to has a longer attention span and a bit more interest than me!  He meticulously prunes everything in his yard, and it totally delights and satisfies him.  It was the time to mow my lawn for the first time of the year and while I knew to stay in the good graces of the neighbors I had to do it, I hated the idea of losing all of the beautiful flowers that were sprinkled around.  I tried to describe it all to my friend.  He finally hesitated a bit and said "Your neighbors think you have a lawn, but in your eyes you have a meadow."

He totally captured the truth of it all....the internal struggle I feel.  While I do love the way my yard looks  with freshly cut grass (especially at this time of year when my mulch has been refreshed, my branches pruned and my azaleas and my tulips are in full bloom), I most treasure the meadow.  The wildness of the paintbox of nature, splashed around here and hither.  The mature part of me knows that I must mow on a regular basis, but the girl inside would rather take off my shoes, walk in the too tall grass, and pick flowers.  While others may not see the beauty in its meadow state, to me that is when there is the most beauty to be seen.

Some of us are people of  the freshly cut grass....respectable and doing what we should.  Pristine among the unmowed lawns and taunting them a bit in our perfection.  Crisp in our knowledge that we are right and proper...well, because that mental picture of the "perfect lawn" that is in our head is what everyone has told us should be right and proper.

Others are the people of the meadow, living life a bit less perfectly, a bit more at random.  Covered with what we think are flowers, but what others see as weeds.  Growing with abandon, and often beauty, though sometimes the place that snakes and the rats hide.

Then at times we are simply the uncut grass, a bit too full of ourselves, and getting on the nerves of the neighbors (who know it is a personal attack against them and their property values.)  Not fitting in with the other lawns, but not caring. Sometimes caring, but living as the grass of someone who has much going on in their life that takes priority over their mowing the grass.  Or owned by someone who has never been told what a "proper" lawn should be and how an "improper" lawn will impact the neighborhood.  So at times annoying by nature, and at others misunderstood.

I don't think I paid much attention to lawns before I became a homeowner.  Now they seem to consume a lot of my thoughts during the spring and summer months and frankly I would prefer those thoughts be out of my head.  I'm actually the person that doesn't mind a drought... doesn't mind if the grass dies.  It gives me less to be concerned with.  I seem to find out more every year about the expectations that some seem to have as to what constitutes an acceptable lawn.  I still find it all a bit overwhelming.

The day may come when I buy a riding mower.  It will allow me to mow over the meadow a bit quicker.  In fact, it may put me up a bit higher from it where I don't even notice what is going on below me. But if I do buy one, I hope I keep the push mower and sometimes keep it in use.  I hope sometimes I continue to refuse to mow an area because I can't stand the idea of mowing down the beautiful flowers.  While as a responsible adult I often have to be the lady of freshly cut grass, underneath it all will always be the spirit of the girl of the meadow.  With apologies to the neighbors!

Making the Pieces of the Puzzle Fit

This month is National Autism Awareness Month.   This I know because my friend Jeanne, who has a son with autism, has done a really good job promoting it.  Jeanne's like that....she often uses her life to help people and with a son that has autism, she has an incredible passion to help people understand it.  From the first time I met her, she talked openly about it.  She views it in a way that is very balanced....both the joys he brings to her life, and the difficulty it is sometimes to be his parent.  That difficulty is not usually because of him...or not much more than the tremendous difficulty it is to parent any child.  Like most good parents she sees her child's positives and negatives, parents him keeping these things in mind, and loves him for the total picture.  But it's the other people who sometimes are, well, jerks.  People who should know better.  Not just other kids.  Adults.  Teachers, even.  Strangers.  They make comments.  They ignore.  They don't see the wonderful person that is there, but instead just see someone different. And they don't appreciate different.  They see disability instead of possibility.

Sometimes I get a bit tired of cutesy inspirational sayings on Facebook.  Most of you probably already knew that.  Yes, I am an admitted eyeroller (my face hasn't frozen like that yet, Mom!) and there are days when the 15 inspirational quotes you have put up there drive me crazy.  For those that sometimes read my blog, you know I use quotes a lot.  I love quotes.  I love to be inspired.  But after a while too many in a row start to make me a bit crazy.  The inspiration starts to get a bit old.  OK, maybe it is more me getting jaded.  I only can act on so much inspiration at one time.  And yes....some of you are just hokey!!!!

But I have loved the quotes that Jeanne has posted this month.  She hasn't been excessive....she has only posted a few.  But the ones she has posted have been really great. In doing it, she has explained, she has proclaimed and she has educated.  Not in a way that is over-emotional, but one that really does some good.  It makes us all think and consider and celebrate.  So in case you missed them, I am going to share them with you.


I am fortunate to know several people with autism, at all levels of the spectrum.  The joy they have brought to my life is incredible.  You may know them too, and you may not have identified exactly what makes them different.  Sometimes it is difficult to see.  Sometimes it is difficult to diagnose.  But diagnosis is a good thing.  It helps you understand them a bit better.  It helps them understand themselves a bit better.  And it reminds us of the richness that people with autism bring to the world.  One of the greatest skills to gain to cope in life is to understand ourselves a bit better.  To know that our brain functions a bit different than others.....it's good to know.  And truthfully....don't all of our brains function a bit differently anyway?  (Maybe it's just mine!)

So anyway, this month learn something new about autism.  Autism Society Homepage  OK....I am not going to trust you to do that on your own.  I know how some of you won't hit a link!  Let me share some things straight from the autism website. 

"Know the Signs: Early Identification Can Change Lives

Autism is treatable. Children do not "outgrow" autism, but studies show that early diagnosis and intervention lead to significantly improved outcomes. 

Here are some signs to look for in the children in your life:

• Lack of or delay in spoken language
• Repetitive use of language and/or motor mannerisms (e.g., hand-flapping, twirling objects)
• Little or no eye contact
• Lack of interest in peer relationships
• Lack of spontaneous or make-believe play
• Persistent fixation on parts of objects" 

 
And now a bit about the higher functioning end of the autism spectrum, Asperger's. 

"Children with autism are frequently seen as aloof and uninterested in others. This is not the case with Asperger's Disorder. Individuals with Asperger's Disorder usually want to fit in and have interaction with others; they simply don't know how to do it. They may be socially awkward, not understanding of conventional social rules, or show a lack of empathy. They may have limited eye contact, seem to be unengaged in a conversation, and not understand the use of gestures.
Interests in a particular subject may border on the obsessive. Children with Asperger's Disorder frequently like to collect categories of things, such as rocks or bottle caps. They may be proficient in knowing categories of information, such as baseball statistics or Latin names of flowers. While they may have good rote memory skills, they have difficulty with abstract concepts.
One of the major differences between Asperger's Disorder and autism is that, by definition, there is no speech delay in Asperger's. In fact, children with Asperger's Disorder frequently have good language skills; they simply use language in different ways. Speech patterns may be unusual, lack inflection or have a rhythmic nature, or it may be formal, but too loud or high pitched. Children with Asperger's Disorder may not understand the subtleties of language, such as irony and humor, or they may not understand the give-and-take nature of a conversation."

I want kids with autism to be diagnosed sooner.  I want them to grow up understanding a bit of what is going on with their bodies.  I want parents and medical professionals and teachers to get them early intervention so that they can get treatment that will help them avoid some of the struggles other kids have gone through. I want parents to get help and support and understanding.  I want the kids to get support too....I don't want them growing up thinking they are weird and that something is wrong with them.  I want them to know that they are special.  (And OK...probably weird, too.  Aren't kids supposed to be?)  I want schools equipped with people who know how to help these kids develop skills that just may not come naturally to them.

We're all created different.  There is really no normal.  And if there was, who wants to be that way?  We have a lovely, vibrant colorful world filled with all kinds of people whose brains and bodies function in all different kinds of ways.  Autistic kids bring a richness to our world.  They are beautiful and funny and creative and smart and loving and imperfectly perfect, just like the rest of us.  So don't turn your head.  Don't treat it as something shameful.  Get in there and get to know about it....get to know the people behind the label.  Look in the mirror and see how like you they are.  And smile.  And celebrate.  Because them, you, me....we're all fearfully and wonderfully made and created in the very image of God.  Important pieces of the puzzle, each of us.  And that is good. 

The Finish Line

"We can't accommodate terrorism. When someone uses the slaughter of innocent people to advance a so-called political cause, at that point the political cause becomes immoral and unjust and they should be eliminated from any serious discussion, any serious debate." - Rudolph Giuliani, CNN interview, Sep. 11, 2002

 “Peace is not the product of a victory or a command. It has no finishing line, no final deadline, no fixed definition of achievement. Peace is a never-ending process, the work of many decisions.”  - Oscar Hammerstein II

"Fighting terrorism is like being a goalkeeper. You can make a hundred brilliant saves but the only shot that people remember is the one that gets past you." -  Paul Wilkinson, London Daily Telegraph, Sep. 1, 1992

 

Like most people, I was horrified when I heard about the explosions at the Boston marathon this afternoon.  Having just run my first 10k a little over a week ago, the feeling of crossing that finish line is fresh in my mind.  It was fun and exhilarating and happy.  

And that was not the Boston marathon finish line....the finish line for the most well known foot race in the world.  A race you are only allowed to run if you are good enough.....if you meet the required time in another marathon.  A race people work for years to qualify for.  But they finally qualify....and then they train some more.  The day comes, the excitement is in the air.  The race starts!  These victors run their hearts out and reach the finish line after passing crowds all along the route, cheering them on. It is an event that brings out the best in people.....both in the their athletic ability and in their support of their fellow man.  It celebrates life.  It celebrates humanity.  It celebrates the victor and the one who makes an attempt.  It celebrates the accomplishments of strangers of all ages, all nationalities.  It bonds these strangers and makes them of one accord.  It's a thing of beauty.

Today evidently someone tried to tamper with that.  They perverted a time that should be about triumph and turned it into pain.  They have taken life and health randomly and carelessly.  What is their purpose?  When did this purpose stall their heart and their humanity?  Why did they feel this was a solution?

I don't understand, but I know that people who do these things, who hate themselves and others, are not always strangers.  Often they are people who look like us, speak like us, and are us.  At some point something goes wrong.  They/we lose touch with reality.  Their personal pain overcomes their sanity.  

How do we change this?   How do we bring peace to our world?  How do we get these acts of terror to stop, not just in our country but around the world?

I believe in the power of the love of God, working through mankind.  I believe in peace, I believe in kindness, I believe in a brotherhood that reaches beyond the borders or states and countries.  I also believe in the need for more education about stress and fear and mental health, more resources for people to get help, and less stigma for those who do.  I believe that hate can start in a single heart and spread across the world, but that also love can do the same.    

I remember when my older sister learned a song when she was in elementary school and taught it to me as we were laying in bed at night.  Sometimes I think we forget the simplicity and truth found in these lyrics.  Are our lives teaching peace....or hate and violence?  We need to look in the mirror.

"Let there be peace on earth
And let it begin with me.
Let there be peace on earth
The peace that was meant to be.

With God as our father
Brothers all are we.
Let me walk with my brother
In perfect harmony.

Let peace begin with me
Let this be the moment now.
With every step I take
Let this be my solemn vow.

To take each moment
And live each moment
With peace eternally.
Let there be peace on earth,
And let it begin with me."


- Jill Jackson/Mark Miller

  

Going the Distance and Winning the Race

I can't really tell you why I agreed to run a 10k.  I know it happened after a few of my girlfriends had just finished doing our first mud run in Atlanta (a 5k) and we were all in pretty high spirits from that.  Prior to the mud run I had just finished the Couch to 5k program, and sometimes could run 30 minutes straight, but not all the time.  (My body does nothing consistently!)  That was huge for me.  It wasn't long ago that running a minute and a half at one time was a major feat.  Being able to run a mile at one time took me far longer than I would like to admit.  More than a year.  Maybe close to two.  But the second timeI tried the Couch to 5k program worked.  The first time I decided it was too hard and stopped.  But the second time I did it, my friend Patsy told me that I didn't have to do it in the nine weeks it sets out.  She said to do it as slowly as I needed to.  That took the pressure off.  If I was having problems with a week, I needed to repeat it until I could do it.  I repeated a week early on....I had trouble doing three five minute runs in one session.  That was the only week I had to repeat.....and the other weeks were much harder.  There is no accounting for it, other than I believe that progressing at running is about 75% mental!  That may be under-estimating.

So by the time I returned from Atlanta, I think I had agreed I would run this 10 k in Charleston.  Over a bridge.  I am phobic about bridges.  Yeah, I can't explain why I agreed to this.  For some reason it sounded like it would be fun.  The only explanation I can think of, is that it is the company I was keeping.  They lead me to crazy.

In preparation, I began the Bridge to 10 k program at the first of the year (the program's name is coincidental...the bridge is from the Couch to 5k program to a 10k program.  Still, it is fun that it fit my situation so well!  In my case it was Bridge to 10k over a Bridge.)  I never finished the program.  Especially the last month it was tough to find the time and when I did, I just wasn't feeling great about my running.  I never thought I would not finish the distance.....I knew I could walk it....but the idea of running the whole thing started to seem less likely.  I decided I didn't care.  And during the program I ran as many as 53 minutes straight.  Unbelievable for me!  And though my first 10k is over, I won't put it on the shelf.  I will still use that program to help me progress.  I plan to finish it.

So last weekend, it was time to run the Cooper River Bridge.  I didn't run it all, but that is OK.  I ran a lot of it.  The crowds intimidated me.  They also interested me....my ADD mind was in overdrive as it tried to process all of the people around me.  There were bands along the route that I passed in a blur.  It was odd...you could only hear them for a few minutes as you passed by.  It was almost like you were fast forwarding a video tape.  There were crazy costumes and interesting people to see.  Some people kept re-appearing.  You would pass them, they would pass you, then you would pass them again.

Then, about 4.5 miles in, my ankle started hurting.  I rarely get injured, so this annoyed me beyond reason.  I don't appreciate it when my body betrays me...especially for no reason (I didn't trip, turn it or otherwise do anything that would seem to make it happen.)  I hobbled for a while, but then tried to run again. It didn't hurt any worse, so I was able to run to the finish line.  It helped that at the last part of the race there were people cheering, cameras that would forever capture my image if I were walking, and the hope of the finish line.

I am rather confident at this point that I will never love running.  As I talk to people who run a lot, though, I find I am in the majority.  That gives me hope that love it or not, I can keep doing it!  My friend Joanie tells me she feels the same way....and she has done a half marathon, is training for her second, and appears to do it all effortlessly in comparison to me.  We were in conversation at breakfast when in Charleston last weekend and talked to a couple who also run.  They said the same thing. They don't love running either.  But the guy said he tracked his running and was surprised when the program told him he had run every week for 52 weeks straight.  Even on vacation....though when he thought about it he realized that all their vacations had been planned around a run.  That's what happens.  It sneaks up on you and you don't even realizing what you have accomplished until you start to think about how far you have come.  We all concluded is we all love the feeling of accomplishment when we have done it...particularly because it requires we conquer the hate and our mind telling us to stop  That is why we continue to run.

I've tried to describe what goes on in my mind to people and there are a couple of different dialogues, depending on the day.  Such as "I can't do this today.  Really.....I don't think I can even do a mile.  I have to do a mile!  OK....that is what I am going to try to do.  Just one mile.  After that I can turn around and walk home.  So OK.  I'll do it.  No, I can't do it.  I really hate this.  Shouldn't I have begun liking this by now? I may not even be able to do a mile."  Or "I can't do this today.  My breathing isn't right.  Why is it so loud?  Is there something wrong with me?  Maybe I should go see Judy (my nurse practitioner) and have her check me out.  Maybe I should just walk.  No....I am going to run just a bit more and see if it levels out."  Or "I can't do this.  I am not a runner.  Stop it....you are a liar.  You are running.  You are a runner.   No, I'm not.  It seems easy for everyone else.  It's not easy for me.  It's not natural.  I am not a runner.  I can walk.  I am a good walker.  Just not a runner.  Stop it....you are a liar.  You are running.  You are a runner." 

When I look at it logically, I know the truth.  I run, so I am a runner.  I will probably never be fast.  My time for the bridge run was 1:23:38.  Nothing to write home about.  But still...for me it's not bad.  I went from the start to the finish line.  While I did walk some, that actually added to the experience.  I was able to look around me and see some of the fun characters that were also running (though I missed the guy running in just Speedo running "shorts" and shoes that Joanie got to see pass by her.)   I was able to see the beautiful views from the bridge...and the bridge is so big it didn't scare me in the least to go over it.  Plus I was able to keep going though I felt pain in my ankle with every step (let me point out that I knew it wasn't a bad injury and I knew it was OK to keep going....I do listen to my body and think that is the most important thing to learn to do for any activity!)

31,449 people finished the Bridge Run this year.  One of those was me!  What was significant to me was not that I finished....I knew I could walk 6.2 miles.  What was significant to me was that I ran a good part of the way.  Slowly, carefully, a bit too tentatively, I think.  I know I could do it faster and run more than I did, but it really doesn't matter.  I enjoyed the experience and didn't spend that time sitting on the couch.  That is why I believe I won.  While I am never quite sure how I get myself into doing these things, I am glad I do.  It's a definite celebration of life and health and a bonding with humanity.  I can do it.  So can you.   Set a goal, and give it a try.  It doesn't have to be a run.  Try something you don't think you can do and then keep at it.  You will surprise yourself and learn some great life lessons.  And add a great chapter to the book of your life.