Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Why I blog

I have been asked before why I blog, but the answer was never as clear as what I heard in a class on Job today; "Sometimes we just need to speak and for just one other person to hear."  That is why I blog, to put my small, lone voice out there, hoping that one other person will hear me.  Maybe we will grow closer, maybe we will understand each other better.  Maybe I won't feel so filled to overfull of whatever I am blogging about?
We all need to reach out to one another- I just choose to do mine through blogging sometimes.  I am sharing who I am, my life, my problems, my joys.  You don't need to fix them, comment on them, or even read them.   But, if you do, and you have wondered why I write so much "Stuff", this is why- I long to pluck the string that ties humanity together to hear the music of bond.  

Friday, September 12, 2014

the dream of a garden memorial

I dreamt that I walked in soft green grass,
the whisper of wind in the trees.
The flowers all nodded their sweet hello
as they welcomed the buzzing of bees.

I dreamt of a tree whose leaves unfurled
and gathered my sorrow within
And took it from me and gave me instead
peace and innocent comfort again.

The sun touched my hair in gentle warmth
while the breeze brushed my cheek so soft
Now lightened inside, my heart once more whole
No more burdened by such grief and loss.

I stood and I turned to leave that place
with its sweet peace and timeless lore
Understanding again, she is not here
I will see her in heaven once more.



~ A true dream, written the morning after the death of fellow Luther Seminary Classmate and DL Cohort 4 member, Rebeccah Whitlock  September 11, 2014.  

Friday, December 13, 2013

One more post seems impossible

I am supposed to write one more blog post for my class project.  Somehow though, as I sat here taking a break and surfing my facebook community I learned a close friend lost her battle with cancer today.

My heart is broken.

I want to hit this screen and yet- it is all I have right now to connect me to her and all our old school chums as we gather virtually in our grief.  It IS my community right now. 

This is where I will find solace through shared prayers- even though they are typed.  This is where I will be able to express anger and pain- to laugh over old pictures and then shed a tear that no more will come with her in them. 

This post just seems impossible to write and yet...I cannot seem to think of one quote from our books and yet- every page seems to scream the same message to me:  do not discount the power of the gospel, no matter what the medium. 

This is exactly why we need to take the lessons from this Media in Parish Education and RUN with them- run into the wind, the sun, the rain- run far and wise, spreading the news- the gospel.   In these moments- in this grief, I have little to offer her or the community except words through a digital screen... and that- that is a gift.  10 years ago I would have sat looking at an email and cried.  Now I can go to her page, see her pictures, the posts and share, right now in community. 

This- this is not some passing fad.  It is a gift to go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. 

Dedicated to the precious memory of Shannon Riedel, mother, wife, friend and sister in Christ who lived and died into her Baptism on this day, 13 December, 2013.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

A thing learned... a joy, a sorrow

Time moves on- a restless, ever moving, ever changing, never changing entity, one we cannot ignore or hide from.

"From that one experience, a finger touching a flame, a person learns countless things."
~ A New Culture of Learning

It has been a joy to share my blog in a new way.  I did not start this blog for a large following.  It was a way to share my stories with my friends- not the world or even my classmates.  It continued as a way for my family and curious minds to see what happens in my life as a seminarian, mom, Army wife and plain old nomad.  Now, I share it with my classmates for my Ed II class that is about media in the parish.

One would think that closing each class is a joy... and it is to a degree.  But it also brings to an end a special relationship built, sometimes with one or two, more often, with 5 or 10 others who get to know each other in a whole new way.  I am grateful for our social media, for our internet and the blessing of online learning.  I am honored to read my classmates blogs and long after this class is done, I will be keeping them on my rss, wondering how they are and in an instant I will know.

Who would have thought how amazing the internet could be at helping us build relationships with someone we never met and may never share a cup of coffee with?  Not me, but boy oh boy, am I glad.

Ps.. here is a link to an old blog post about ends and goodbyes: should old acquaintance be forgot

Quote from A New Culture of Learning, SeelyBrown & Thomas, 2011.

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Exclusive holidays...why Christmas and Thanksgiving SHOULD overlap

There are a lot of holidays that really don't go together.  St Patrick's day and Halloween, for example.  There are even a few that bump up against each other that don't quite go together either, like St Patty's and Easter (some years).  Many argue that Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas don't go together either and therefore they must be exclusive in the retail arena until one is done before the next is displayed.  The problems with this are multiform.

Let's look at this from a retailers point of view:  I have the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas to make more than half of my year profit and the difference between bankruptcy and solvency.  Hmm,.... I would put the stuff out early TOO!

How about the decorators point of view?  I want to enjoy every day of each 'holiday' but if there is nothing in the store until the other holiday ends, how can I purchase my decorations, let alone put them up to enjoy them before this holiday is over?

How about the ambiance point of view?  Who the heck doesn't like the lovely light that strings of Christmas lights lend to an evening room with the fireplace lit?  Hello?  Winner!

But more than these reasons, let's look at why we celebrate these in the first place.  Halloween was to scare off the bad energies that might ruin a harvest at the most critical point of the year.  Of course it goes with Thanksgiving- which is about giving thanks for the bounty of harvest that saved the Pilgrims from starvation.  They also invited the locals to join them, not just to give thanks for help surviving their new world, but for relationship.  They gave thanks for life, for food, and for relationship.  This is where the secular argument ends and the Christian one really takes off.

Now let's look at Christmas/Advent.  Why do we celebrate?  Going back to original Christmas celebration (neither the pagan roots nor calendar day placement), Christians celebrated because Jesus, their awaited Messiah and Saviour had come.  The gift they awaited had finally arrived.  The birth of Christ is SOLELY about relationship and life.  Christ came to fix the relationship gap (more like chasm) we had with God ever since the Garden of Eden.  God missed us and wanted our close relationship back.  The only way to do that was to gift us life again (eternal life), which was achieved through Jesus subsequent crucifixion on our behalf. Just like the Pilgrims, Christians are giving thanks for life and for relationship (and if you really want to get into it for theological fun, for food too (bread and wine of the Eucharist).

Are you starting to see the correlation?  Thanksgiving sets us up to see and experience thankfulness in our lives; our daily, very human, very physically present lives.  It is the perfect foundation to be thinking of Christmas at the same time, preparing our hearts and minds for the greater spiritual thanks for the gift of Christ.  God doesn't just give us eternal life and relationship with God again, but God lavishes bounty upon us in our daily living too- in countless ways.  To think that Thanksgiving and Christmas are exclusive, do not overlap, or go together, is in part to deny the gifts and thanks of both.  We can celebrate both at the same time.  I celebrate Christmas, Easter (eternal gifts) and Thanksgiving (corporal gifts) every day of the year.

I am not necessarily justifying the retail push for 'buy, buy, buy,' but I am asking you to reconsider, can we quit complaining about one being over first before we start the other?  Why can't we celebrate both together? 

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

The New Introvert- or rather "Net-rovert"

"It requires more work on the part of networked individuals to make their way successfully in an always-on, quickly moving world, and a new set of norms and skills-just as the transition from rural, agrarian life to urban, industrial life required."

In his book, NetSmart, How to Thrive Online, Howard Rheingold writes a chapter on how "Social Has a Shape" and explores the ramifications of the social aspect of the internet on our social lives.  Many argue we are losing our social ability for the sake of computer screens and minimalized contact online.  But the above quote really got me thinking.  We have both extroverts and introverts in both physical social circles and online as well.  Online, they tend to be what I call net-roverts.  The ones who aren't completely against the use of the internet and social media, but they really don't want to get into it too far for a variety of reasons.  They are the ones who still have an egg for thier Skype image or an outline on facebook.  The lurkers or the newbies that don't know what to do so they have the account but really, the tool sits still in their hands.

The point is, it takes work to be online and connect.  A LOT of work.  You must keep up with the newest waves of technology and know when to let a sinking ship sink or when to jump to the next bandwagon.  You have to be willing to put yourself out there in order to use the tools and all the more so to use them well.  It doesn't take less to be connected online- it just takes the same effort in a new way. 

Text from Netsmart, How to Thrive Online by Howard Rheingold, 2012.






Saturday, November 9, 2013

The Hopeful Side of Experience

The other day I posted about how experience and being 'connected' are two very different things on the internet.  Although I meant every word of what I said, there is another side to the story, a side that I like to call hopefulness.  The sunny side.

I live my life as a nomad.  We move every few years and I have to start all over.  A new church, a new school, new neighbors and coworkers to get to know.  A new doctor and dentist, grocer and tea house.
I leave behind friends and old acquaintances that all made a place seem like home.  I leave behind the connections that make me feel like I matter in this world and someone sees me.  Ten years ago, I would have had to call a lot or send a lot of letters (emails for some) in order to maintain the connection as I build new ones in my new place.

With the internet, new options and new ways to stay connected have arrived.  While my best friend of 20 years may not be able to come clean the kitchen after my being too sick for 4 days or pick up the kids from school because I am in an appointment, she can give me comfort over a webcam with a mutual cup of tea.  We can each make the same kind, buy the same cookie (my crack cookie is Thanks A Lot by Girl Scouts) and then share in those same scents and tastes even as we look at each other with our hair mussed and pj's on.  There is a comfort found.

There is also a connection that makes the loneliness at night far less distressing.  At 3 am, I can hardly pick up the phone to call someone to see if they are awake- but I can glance at a screen and see they are on and active- and we can chat away, waking no one else.

My children can share an art project or an A paper with grandma on the other coast through a simple text or scan and when I have forgotten a birthday, I can create a lovely personal card and send in moments.  I can even lend my latest ebook to a friend to read and share comments online with.

As a seminarian, there is even more.  I am a student online, completing my Master of Divinity at Luther Seminary almost completely through the Internet and local congregational work.  I get to know my classmates through chats and conferences, facebook and even a rousing round of word games that spans space and time.  In the book, Click2Save, the authors note, "It's about how you connect in meaningful, personal ways with people across diverse networks."

For all the lack of connection, there is a greater one being made- a fine but sturdy thread of connectivity that allows me to grow my faith, to share with others, to  build community that is bigger than my human body can ever dream of creating with its physical limitations.  It is a new way to see the Holy Spirit at work, the thread of life that connects us all, glistening in the sun, showing us, that no matter how alone I may feel in my worst moments, I am not.  You are there- my community of faith, of love, of friendship.  And through that, my new community will be built too-  the one that does drop off dinner after surgery or take you Black Friday Shopping.  One does not preclude the other, instead, if we let them, they balance and compliment each other.

That is the good side of experience through connectivity.  It is the hope that shines through- that proves that no matter how lonely and disconnected the Internet may seem, it is still community with great value, just in a new currency.

Learn more about Click2Save by Elizabeth Drescher and Keith Anderson, 2012. 

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Does connection mean experience?



Well I am "connected", does that count?
I tweet, I am on facebook, LinkedIn, MySpace, classmates, Skype, and cafe-mom to name a few
I have learned by blackboard on tiger-tracks, on myluthernet and more with classmates in Turkey, Norway, Australia and China.
I blog on blogger,  yelp, and google+.
I share books and pics and songs and more through goodreads, instagram and YouTube
I read on my kindle and ipad, sharing notes with other readers I have never met.
I learn about makeup and crafts and see what my daughter is drawing lately through pinterest and deviantart.
I resource my sermons through a broad number of sites for history, scripture, sermon style, and public speaking.
I email and text, I even teach using google+ and YouTube.

But.... am I experienced? I don't know.  I know how to use analytics and I blog more than randomly. I work Veteran suicide prevention with a team that is all over the world simultaneously.  But  am I making a connection that is real?

My favorite movie is 10 Things I Hate About You- I loved it before most people know who Heath Ledger was... and my favorite line is this:

Tell me something true, tell me something real, something no one else knows. 

On my worst days, I curl into my husbands arms and softly whisper these words.  He knows that means it has been a day I only want to cry over.  That I have seen through my eyes, through a screen through my phone and my monitor that the world is a sad, broken, hurting, and devastated place.  It is bereft of hope and in those moments, I sure as heck feel connected.

But then someone I love dies.  And there is no connection.  I can post my pain, I can blog up a storm- but the community I have built- it can reach into my heart, but it does not pat my shoulder, it does not make me a cup of hot tea and tell me to curl up on the couch for a nap and good cry.  It does not deliver dinner for a break, it does not pick up sick kids from school.  And I wonder- is anybody out there.

And considering all this, that I know what it is to be connected and also alone in this great big cyber world, then yes. I would say, I am experienced too.


Learn more about the idea of "understanding how deeply relational and embodied learning is" and why this matters to a seminarian by reading Engaging Technology in Theological Education by Mary Hess, 2005.

Thursday, August 29, 2013

What does real love look like? Seminary, Cohorts and M.E.

What does love with forbearance and forgiveness look like?  What does love lived with passion and open eyes look like?  Can the two be one?

My cohort may never forgive me for this one, but I pray they 'get' it... In fact, I am pretty sure they will.

In my cohort of over 20 people we have all kinds.  We come from all over the country.  Not everyone would choose to spend time as 'best-ies' outside of school, but we have found a common connection beyond our call.  It is called love.

We are not perfect.  We drive each other nuts even as we drive each other on in joy. Here is a short list of some of our better or worse attributes (you decide if they are good or bad, it is all perspective):

Some of us are:
Sociable         Talkative             Timid                Private              Boisterous              Methodical
Studious         Loud                   Meek               Confident          Artistic                   Capable
Skilled            Experienced        Expressive        Modest             Flashy                    Articulate
Simple            Detailed              Humble             Joyous              Self Conscious       Self starters
Driven            Affectionate        Bubbly              Frustrated         Busy                       Calm

You see, we are all kinds of things.  Sometimes annoyingly so, even to each other.  But in those moments that would drive anyone else mad, we are blessed with this amazing grace that lets us see past the annoying part and LOVE the person in front of us.  They are part of us, they are us.  We know no matter how good they may be at something we are not good at, that they are a little doubtful of a different, weaker, skill of attribute of their own.  We know we all bring something to the table.  More than anything, I have seen tremendous patience.  It allows us to breathe, to listen and to HEAR and see each other and what is really happening around us, not just what is colored by our immediate reaction.

This group of people is full of imperfection and disagreement.  One of my closest friends in this group goes NUTS every time she finds out I have not started a 10 page paper that is due in 5 hours- because she is a planner and does her work methodically and carefully.  I on the other hand vomit words on paper and try to sort it out.  It works for me. Hers works for her.  The best part?  We both get A's but if we tried it the other way we would fail miserably.  The lesson here is that we could really drive each other to distraction with our differences, but instead, we love each other all the more.  We (or at least I do) find great comfort in the difference that we see with eyes wide open, full of passion and yet, in forbearance and forgiveness.  (She really needs to forgive me for the white hairs I am giving her when she finds out about these papers... I will buy her hair dye as a token apology next time I see her.)

We are NOT this way because we are future pastors... but we are this way because the Holy Spirit allows us to LOVE with eyes wide open, with deep and convicting passion, with forbearance, and most importantly, with forgiveness.  I could not ask for more.  Now I just wish I could bottle that for the world.

Monday, October 22, 2012

He was Just an ICE man.



“He was just an iceman”

When George Marion Mason died in the mid 1940’s  the crowd spilled out onto the street in front of the mortuary.  When they drove to the cemetery, there were over 150 cars in the processional and at least that many at the cemetery when they arrived too. 

Worth was a young man among those mourning and he was asked by a stranger passing by, “who died?”
To which he answered, “Uncle Fats.”  The stranger continued, well who was he?  Was he rich?  Was he a senator or a movie star? He must have been important!” 
Young worth answered simply, “he was just an iceman.”

Later, Worth heard a quote that he connected to Uncle Fats,  even to this day.  “It is nice to be important, it is more important to be nice.”

How was it so many people came to mourn his passing?  Uncle Fats was in the ice delivery business.  He was neither wealthy nor famous. He worked hard every day, bearing massive and heavy blocks of ice to house after house.  But uncle Fats chose to be in a different business too- one that did not earn him a paycheck but did earn him respect.  He was in the soul business.  He asked after them and invited into kitchens all over San Diego, this man became like family to each household.    He cared about people. 

We are getting close to the elections and of course, I cannot resist the fodder for a sermon.  You didn’t think you would get through without some reference did you? 
Politics are unavoidable.  Even then, in a room with Jesus, James and John were making a political play for power. They knew how things worked in this world and they knew they needed to get the vote early on. And of course the other disciples got riled up. If they were all focused on the real purpose of being there none of them would have gotten upset, but we see that every one of them did. They ALL had politics on their minds too. 

Jesus takes this moment though to remind them that this fame has a price. This political office they yearn for is going to cost them everything and will be nothing like they can imagine.
The book of Mark doesn’t have the beatitudes listed, but we can take a moment to pick them up and look them over again.  What if we were to put  these into the light here with this reading? When we read them it occurs to many that this is a list of the ideal long suffering servant. 

The Beatitudes are more than a list of honey-do’s from Jesus.  They are an application to our hearts, to do more than feed the body of the poor, to protect more than the body of an orphan or widow.  No, we are called to serve not just the product here of faith and Christian life, but we are called to serve their hearts.

How do we take this lesson then and apply it Uncle Fats style?  Does it have relevance to us not only as individuals but as a whole?  Of course. 

The relevance is that Uncle Fats brought the product to the people where they were.  He did not meet them half way, he went the whole way.  He met them on their terms and he was consistent.  You might argue he had to do that for his work.  But he only had to deliver ice consistently.  If ice men were all buried the way he was more people might have been clamoring to be one.  He was the epitome of a servant, because he served more than the product, he served the spirit of each customer too. 

Uncle fats went further and gave of himself in true servant fashion even when he did not have to. 
Just because we cannot expect secular society to be held to Christian standards does not mean we cannot or need not hold ourselves to those standards.  Just as Uncle Fats took his caring of people to work with him, we can do the same in our lives.  What would the church look like if we really saw every person in our paths and “cared” for them?  What if the words of “how are you” were really asking and wanted the true answer, not the polite one?

In law, when speaking of federal and state law there is terminology that applies here.  You can always add to Federal law with state law, but you can NEVER take away from Federal law by state law.  Jesus has given us instructions- and he is encouraging us to do more than the basics, to add to the law by action of our hearts and minds, just as he did. He did not want blind or thoughtless action, he wanted and still wants, our hearts.

This is relevant now because we as a body must learn a new way to meet the people where they are.  Last Sunday we had evening service out front because people brought animals.   We did not expect them to be in the sanctuary- it was not reasonable and I think the custodian would have had our heads.  Instead, the service was brought to us outside- to where we needed to be.   If we had called people to do this service inside, the animals, for whom the service was as well, would not be able to join us comfortably.  Isn’t that why some people don’t come to church now? 

Now I am not calling us to stop service in the building- please let me be clear on that one.  But I am calling us to consider how to take the BODY of Christ, which is the true church, with us in our everyday and fully be the servant we are called to be.  Let’s recall our baptism and the cross in mundane moments and share those.  It is not easy- it will not be easy.  That is exactly what Jesus told them- that cup to drink, it will carry bitterness and sorrow. 

Uncle Fats could have just been a nice guy but I don’t think people would have lined up like that were he not serving more than their ice each time he trudged into their kitchen. 
 Delivering the word of Christ is more than a physical act, We as the bride of Christ are in the business of serving the spirit in a way where we bare who we are in order to let Christ shine through.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

How I met Lance

So I am at this fundraiser for our youth group in Germany. We are hosting a Mexican dinner and it is near the end and we are done serving so we all sit down to eat and watch the slides from the last trip (to Spain). I am 16 and with all my friends...and I see this guy sitting all alone at the end of the long table. So, being the outgoing person that I am who needs to make others feel connected... I scooch down the table and invite him to join my friends and I.

Turns out he almost didn't come to the dinner. He bought tickets at the PX(like a walmart on Army posts)and then his friends blew it off. Well he decided to come after all.

He stayed and helped us clean up and then afterward we stood outside looking at the stars while i waited for my ride. We talked about his hometown in Michigan and I knew I was in love with him that night. There was no doubt.

I invited him to join me at church the next day... and he did. I was so glad! After service we would walk across the street to the burger bar and sit and talk for hours. That is what our courtship consisted of. He became my best friend first. I didn't think I stood a chance with him so I never told him I loved him. Then I went out with another guy and the look on Lances face told me I had a shot! I dumped that other guy soooo fast.

So Lance was a new soldier at his first duty station and home sick. We would sit outside the main gate waiting for the bus and talk about home- our home that we would have someday. He told me he loved me and we talked about our future together and he had not even french kissed me! Talk about respect!

The first time we went on a real date we walked downtown with my friend and her boyfriend (also a soldier) to get spaghetti eis ( a German ice cream that looks like spaghetti). While there he held my hand for the first time. I also tried to show off my vocabulary. He made some comment about something that was obvious and I said, " my aren't we astute?" He dropped my hand and stopped walking and asked, incredulous, " I'm a what???" We still laugh to this day! So much for showing off and impressing him- he thought I was calling him names!

Next blog will be about how we lost each other and found each other again- titled My Life: Lost and Found

Friday, September 28, 2012

Why so many Christmas Cards?

My beloved looked at me like I had turned into a hoarder. 

I have over 400 blank cards ready to be addressed and sent this year as soon as the Calendar says November 20.

I know there must be shock on your faces too.  But my Christmas cards serve as far more than a holiday greeting and newsletter.  They let people know where we are.  They keep us in contact with previous co-workers, church congregations, sports team members, landlords, you name it.

Mind you, I don't do it for anyone and everyone. But there are those in our life that we do not want to lose the wispy connection that remains as time goes on.   We never know when we may return to an area.  We never know when they may want to come visit!

This is my facebook/myspace/twitter alternative that reaches everyone- because not everyone we love has a fb account either.

Then there is something to be said about the joy of getting a hand addressed piece of mail... it is a warm, comforting feeling.  No label- just a hand that once shook or held yours that took the time to WRITE your name and address and let you know they are thinking of you.

So I do not always send that many- but I rarely have a list smaller than 150.   This year, with a cross country move and a failure to send to everyone for 3 years now, I have a duty to send to everyone.   It is my biggest priority. I didn't send change of address out so I really have no choice .... besides, I like getting them too!

Monday, February 27, 2012

Amid the boxes and packing paper

Lately it seems my blogs have ended up in my seminary blog, but today, this is just about me and my life.  Not about how it works with seminary.  Today, it is about the fact I sit in this house, as it is almost empty of our things; things that made it our home.  I look around me at all the space- which by the way, feels really good in a whirlwind of busy-ness- and I think of all the room that was made in my heart for my friends here.
We were blessed with a great little congregation.  Not that there have not been times I wanted to rip my hair out over frustration with them, but just like marriage, I believe a congregation chooses you, not the other way around and you stay; a commitment.

Our house is not the only empty place we will leave.  By sheer volume of Kelly bodies alone, we will leave an entire pew empty in our quaint little sanctuary.  And we worry.  Will someone sit and lead other parents and adults in study on Sunday mornings now?  Will the archiving of church photos be completed?  How will the youth groups fare when losing a large number like this?  Not that my family is the be-all end-all for this congregation, but we are a small one and we are not the only ones leaving.  One of the members is leaving to live in warmer weather, another has gone home to await us all.  Many empty spots will appear over this month and ours will be among them.

I look at my boxes, labeled with things we own and often think, they are just things, they are not what matters.  Yet it is the moment I unpack those things that I think of the ones I love and memories we have made along the way.  The Austrian cowbell from friends who took thier parents all over the continent when we all lived in Germany.  The crystal returned just days ago from co-hosting a fancy fundraiser dinner that will now make me think of her as I put it away in my new home.  The vintage map of the Hudson Valley that will be framed and hung to make me think of my dear clothing designer friend, who loves all things vintage.  There will be beach passes to empty from my wallet to make me remember a summer spent learning to walk on an injured ankle down to a hidden cove where we sat, sunned and swam with local friends and read trash and fluff all summer.  And little things will stay on for a while- probably like my A&P and Shoprite store cards on my keychain- that will be months before I remember to take them off- but see them every time I put a new one on for L.A. groceries and pharmacies.

What is always hardest is realizing that like the forwarded mail, the daily thoughts will become fewer, less noticeable.  I will make new friends to add to my growing list of blessings along the way.  I will find new haunts for coffee and new local spots for swimming and hanging out.  I will not forget NY, nor the friends made here- the family of choice that comes with Army life.  I will treasure them and when I pick up these things to pack them again, to leave L.A., I will think the same things again.  So they are not just things.  They are reminders, they reveal in a way the memories that get forgotten in daily life.  They will keep my friends close in my heart, even long years from now when we may have lost touch.

 For now though, I wrap them up with care, I label them and I move on to the next item.  Because if I don't, it isn't about not being ready in time, it is about not being able to function.  I have to set them in those boxes and move on.  I have to say farewell and start again, just like I did in Savannah, in New Jersey, in Wisconsin, in California, in Germany, in Colorado, in Florida, in Tennessee, in Kentucky, in Virginia, in Michigan, and now, New York.  


Tuesday, June 7, 2011

facebook gave me roots

We hear it all the time, "facebook ruined my marriage, my friendship, got me fired...".

Well apart from the fact that a computer program cannot do those things, I am here to say that facebook has done something really good, really true, of value, of moment, in my life.

I am a Brat.  yup... proud to say it.  Military, Army to be specific, Brat.  It is what I know.  It is what I do now, I am a BratBride.  I traded one ID card for another.  I had a civilian life once, many years ago, before my parents remarried and I was given a prefix to my sponsors ID#.

To be fair, that first life was when I was young, by the time I was 12 I was a Brat.  But the moving started much earlier.  I love my parents, let me just say that.  I am not trying to be unfair or mean, but the fact is, in general, every time my parents split up or got back together we moved.  So we could argue my training for Army life began early. Add to that, my father is a GOOD solid German Norwegian.  In good Scandinavian style, "we" don't speak about family, it might be gossip.  But that rule also stopped me from learning about my heritage. I lost an invaluable treasure trove of stories about who I am and who I come from.  I know what I learned from my mom's side and can only IMAGINE what I would feel if I had been able to connect to my fathers family in the same way.  I didn't even know what I had lost until I lived in Wisconsin.  There the women of my church and quilting group taught me old family recipes.  They shared thier stories of thier families in that odd womanly way that doesn't qualify as gossip somehow.

Let me back up though.  I have always felt like I had no roots, no home.  Once told that there is no way anyone doesn't have a place they truly call home, they said emphasized by asking where I want to be buried.  In all honesty, with a straight face, I answered, " Dig a hole beside my body and role me in."  I was and still am serious.  I have no place I call home.  None.  In face, I have few places I can go where anyone would recognize me if I showed up today.  My life is that ephemeral. Thus, I have no roots.
That is, I didn't.  Until facebook appeared.

Somehow, the roots to my high school- that no longer exists (due to BRAC, Base Realignment and Closure started in the 80's) were found through this neverland of the world wide web.  There have been reunions, there are groups, there are close friends reconnecting and recalling the fun.  Even the icky stuff too- but all of that is required to have roots.  You know, it takes poop to make good plants grow deep roots too.

 I have found many a dear friend on here.  Some, we find, we read up on each other and we then settle into a non-interactive connection again.  Others, who may not have been my closest confidants, are now quickly becoming the ones to whom I go for support, connection, encouragement and truth.  I know the rules.  I don't do that with the guys.  I have a loving hubby and I am not willing to risk that.  But that doesn't mean I won't add a guy to my friends list.  They are a root too.  Maybe one of those tiny ones, but they count.  They are a part of my past, a part of my now and will be a part of my future, even without facebook.

I have connected with cousins.  I have been shown pictures I did not know existed of me as a young girl.  I have found distant relatives through my grandfathers cousins!  I am finally, creating my own "web" of roots- and facebook is to credit, not to blame.  It has been a blessing in my life.  It has connected me with my college pals in Kansas and Minnesota.  It allows me to participate in Bible study groups.  It has let me learn who my husband is and has given me a key to that treasure trove of stories in my father's family, so that now I may share this with my children. I finally feel almost confidant enough to reach out to family in Minnesota to ask if I may come visit, to see family history in person, to see faces that look like mine, hair of flax that looks like my children's.
Yup... for once, facebook has done as good as an inanimate object may.  This Brat has finally found some roots, in spite of my lifestyle.  Thank goodness for this marriage wrecking, job losing, friend turned enemy making site.

Friday, July 23, 2010

It will come... sooner or later.

Today is a different day. That doesn't mean that things are different though. Yesterday a friend was laid to rest in Arlington National Cemetery.

Try as I might, I cannot cut short the sadness over the loss of his life in this world. I could not travel the 6 hours each way to honor his life there with others. I chose instead to take a break from moving and see Long Island beaches for the first time. I spent the hour of his interment watching my children jump into the ocean. And the waves crashed over and over again like a heart beat, reminding me of his now gone.

Am I a crappy human for wanting to forget? It was as though my heart said, if I cannot be there to truly grieve with others then I will simply not grieve.

Unfortunately, although I was able to defer pain, I could not cut it off. It remains. I woke this morning with a lump in my throat and a deep need to cry before I even knew why.
It's done. He is gone. There are no more ceremonies or memorials, there is not another step to finalize the formal end. Now comes the time when the others slowly but surely get on with thier lives as his family drowns in grief that has been deferred to a point as well. Now there is nothing else to keep them busy arranging or trying to 'get through'.

100 years ago we still wore black for a year. We showed our grief. A close friend or distant relative wore a black band to show the grief. The widow for a full year or more was clothed in all black with little relief of color.

Today we have no outer way to know of grieving kin. They walk by us in the grocery store and for all intensive purposes carry on thier daily grind as we stand in line behind them or scoot our cart around them in the deli department.

As a not so close friend, but more than mere acquaintance, where do I fit in? Some of us feel grief for others in the oddest of ways with no rhyme or reason. Maybe this is deferred pain over other losses in my life?

All I know is that today I grieve and no matter how enjoyable yesterday was, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it, I was aware all day of my friends who stood by a grave and shed tears at an armed salute, taps and a folded flag. I was so aware that I let out a deep breath- one I did not know I had been holding- around 1500. Surely it was done. Surely his lovely bride stood surrounded by others muttering condolences to her when she only wished to be alone on a mountain top screaming her lungs out over the ugliness of this.

There are no words I can utter to her that will ease her pain. There is no action I can perform to lessen her grief. I can only allow my tears to join hers as they fall to the earth where he is laid. My only hope is that I will be able to travel soon to honor his life where he rests and that I can live my life in a way that honors the love, laughter, friendship, and heartbeat that was his.

Pedro Mercado, my friend, may you rest in peace. May your lovely wife carry a little less pain each day. May your family remember you with honor and smiles. May your memory live on to remind us all that we should live with a HUGE smile that lights up a room, because in the end, while we may try to defer the pain, or even death, we cannot. It will come. Sooner or later.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

When a Tree Falls in Your Driveway....

Originally composed 5 March 2010.

Finally~! For over a month everyone but us seemed to be getting snow. The day they said all lower 48 states got snow on the same day- we had none. Upstate got it all. So when they called for a Nor'easter to hit us I was a little excited. I jumped the gun.

This snow was not the pretty light fluffy stuff that stinks for making forts and snowmen. No, it was heavy, wet and huge. Flakes larger than an oreo cookie! HUGE I say! Ever so lovely to watch them fall.

So they fell, and they fell and the world began to turn the softest of whites. The wires began to hang low ...and the trees began to bend...to the ground.

After only a couple of hours I was barely able to drive to the bus stop for the kids (which I never do but wanted to see if I could even get up the street) let alone the train station for Lance.
When I got into town, they had slush, some snow accumulation, but overall, no bending branches and little evidence of what we were seeing at the top of the mount. For their 2-3 we had 6!

That evening branches began falling... huge branches... some of them the major ones of a tree. They fell in the yard, on the neighbors car, in the road. But no whole trees... yet.

The next day Lance went out to shovel- with all that heavy snow still on the trees. That is when it happened. Nick and Graham were out there helping shovel and when he heard a sound he looked to see the tree moving. He yelled at them: "BOYS!! Come NOW!"
Thank God they listened.

I was in the living room, no window to out front. I heard a crash that made my heart skip a beat and I nearly flew up the stairs. Brenden was sitting by the picture window and I asked as I ran up the stairs what happened. With a shocked look on his face he said, "A tree just fell." I ran to the window and all I could see was a massive 80 ft Cottonwood tree taking up my ENTIRE driveway- right where my husband and children were supposed to be. My first thought was: My LORD... they are under that tree crushed in the snow!!!

I do not know what my voice sounded like, but I am sure it was frantic when I breathlessly demanded of Brenden, "Where is your father?" He then pointed to the corner of the window and said, "right there." I looked down and Lance stood with the twins gripped to him and a look of stunned relief on his face. I am sure an eternity passed as my mind attempted to accept that if I saw them standing there they were not under the tree. Then I started to breathe heavily- or maybe I was not breathing at all and had only just begun again.

I finally found my legs and raced down to them. As soon as my arms were around Lance I began sobbing hysterically- something I have never done like this in my life. Ever. Not even as an emotionally overwrought teenage girl. Apparently my crying was so loud that combined with the sound of the tree crashing, the neighbor ran out the door yelling back to his wife to be ready to call 911. He thought for sure something was wrong. I must have stood there sobbing and clinging to Lance forever. Finally I begged him to please just come inside until the snow is off the trees. "Please!!!!"

Finally he did. Then he told me that Graham had been the one who was basically under the tree when it began to fall. I still cannot feel anything when I write that or ponder it- I simply shut down emotionally at the close call my child just faced. Especially when I consider the death the day before of a man in Central Parks- killed by a falling branch.

I have never ever felt such fear, panic, dread, you name it....I felt it.

The tree remains in the yard. The landlord and friends with chainsaws came on Saturday to cut a swath to get us out but the remnants will be there for some time... and every time I see it I want to grab the 3 of them to me and never let go.

So when a tree falls in your driveway- your wife will make a realllllly loud sound- and you will never forget it.

Make a Memory

Originally written 28 May 2010.

Last night Bon Jovi sang this song... and I listened to the words as always, and felt sad as always. It was that sad joy that comes with saying goodbye but also devouring every moment left.

It reminds me of so many moments in my past when I wanted one more moment with someone- to hold onto and cherish forever if I couldn't have them.

I held onto those memories of my love through two icky relationships- never dreaming I would have him again in my arms.

Most people have that one "what if" person in their past... the 'what if we had tried, or tried harder' person. The person that makes them forget for a moment that they are happily married.
I have to say I almost cried when I realized I don't. I have him here, in my arms, kissing me sweetly goodnight as he wraps me into his arms. He wakes me with the same words, for over 17 years now- "Good Morning, I love you."

Those who know me well have heard me say Titanic was a beautiful movie that I will never watch again. It is because it saddens me. I have found that love and I do not want to lose it- and the fact is, life happens and we do. I know that time will come soon enough. Hopefully in another 50+ years, but it will come nonetheless and I will still not be prepared for the loss.

In the meantime, I am sadly happy for my life, for what I have that so many do not. Sometimes I want to feel guilty, sometimes I minimize my blessings to others. The fact is though, that I am blessed beyond measure to have the man of my dreams, a really good man, by my side and that there is no other "what if" person in the past anymore now that he is by my side.


(You want to) Make a Memory (by Jon Bon Jovi)

Hello again
It's you and me
Kinda always like it used to be
Sipping wine, killing time
Trying to solve lifes mysteries
How's your life.
It's been awhile
God it's good to see you smile
I see you reaching for your keys
Looking for a reason not to leave

If you don't know, if you should stay
If you don't say, whats on your mind
Baby just breathe
There's nowhere else tonight we should be
You want to make a memory

I dug up this old photograph
Look at all that hair we had
It's bittersweet to hear your laugh
Your phone was ringing I don't wanna ask

If you go now, I'll understand
If you stay, hey, I got a plan
You want to make a memory
You want to steal a piece of time
You can sing the melody to me
And I can write a couple lines
You want to make a memory

If you don't know, if you should stay
And you don't say, whats on your mind
Baby just breathe
There's nowhere else tonight we should be
You want to make a memory
You want to steal a piece of time
You can sing the melody to me
And I can write a couple lines
You want to make a memory
You want to make a memory

the recipe I cannot write down

What is it about cooking? There is deep satisfaction in that moment of completion of a dish, when you look at it before it is eaten and think, "I made this." You realize you did not waste your time, there is a final result and it is pleasing. Well, pleasing most of the time that is.
The moments of measuring, pouring, sifting, stirring, whipping, rolling, kneading... these are, for the home cook, a 'known' in the unknown of life. I KNOW that if my bowl for whipping egg whites is not clean they will not set up well. I know a cold pastry dough will yield a tender crust. I know a loaf insufficiently kneaded turns out like lead in your stomach.
In life though, we have no such knowledge. We have no guarantees that even if we do "it" right that we will turn out with success. We can walk through life keeping all our promises, doing all the right things, helping, loving and sharing and still not get an easy path- or even a fun one.
We can anticipate others and what they will do, but no guarantees of what will turn out to be true. We cannot even guarantee our own actions!
Even the best of hints, tips and self help books do not ensure a child well turned out. The proverbs were not 'quite' honest. Train up a child in the way he should go and he will more than likely not depart from it- but the fact is, they are their own person and they will do as they will do, regardless of our love, devotion, discipline, prayers and guidance.
But my food, that I can guarantee. I can KNOW that my tortillas will brown to gorgeous golden rings on the tips of tender bubbles. I can know that my scrambled eggs will turn out creamy, light and savory.
Quite simply I wish I could put it down in words and measurements to share with the ones I love. I wish I could share a tip or word of wisdom so your life will turn out as consistent as my tortillas. So while I may try, while I may wish, I cannot share this recipe with you- I cannot even write it down for myself.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Brenden's story

Our oldest child, Brenden Shea Kelly was born October 14, 1995. He came home from the hosptial on our 2nd anniversary- the 16th.

When we found out we were pregnant we had come home to VA for my dad's Army Retirement (surprised him!). I also learned that I get horrible morning sickness and that Army C-130 planes DO NOT help. 4 months of worshipping the porcelain god multiple times a day led to great relief when it passed- as well as several times in the hospital for dehydration. One of those Lance decided he could not take the blood spurting out of the accidentally loosened IV tube in my arm so he went down and had to be admitted to make sure he did not have a concussion... remember this when you get to the epidural part, k?

Labor was long and intensive with him. I had what is called Latent Labor (if I recall right). After they admitted me it was another 56 hours before he was born and for 3 days prior I had spent all day at L&D as they kept thinking it would kick in. No dice, so they would send me home because they HAD to by regulations.

I had horrible back labor. HORRIBLE>I was black and blue over my whole back for several weeks afterwards from mom and Lance pushing on my back to help. They could not lift their arms for several days afterwards due to sore muscles. Oh- and when they did give me the epidural I had one area it did not numb- so all the pain went there. Apparently that happens with every epidural I get.

When I got my epidural (which Lance does not remember because he tried to get all the attention by passing out from the vision of that nice short needle going into my backbone! lol) they lost all of my vitals and Brenden's too. I remember coming to with O2 on my face and people all rushing around me. Close call to C-section number one.

Later, I did a reversal in my progression. I went from 7 to barely a 5. They said that rarely turns itself around and they were going to give me one hour and then prep for c section. 40 minutes later I told them I needed to push- well actually I told them that 20 minutes later but they did not believe me and took 20 to finally come and check me.... to their amazement he was nearly crowned! 3 pushes and my little guy was here. We did not know the sex so we had several names chosen. I wanted Lucas and Lance wanted Brenden. I looked into my husbands eyes and had to cave- his son.... his choice for name. I was so blessed to have them both!

Unfortunately because they had broken my water over 30 hours before I had a reallllly bad uterine infection. (duh- all those people checking me for way too long!) So they had to take him to the NICU to make sure he was ok and monitor him for a few hours.

Of course the hospital had no running water and they had no water to drink- only apple juice- the one thing I cannot drink. The solution from the nurse was to go buy a soda up the hall! ARHGH! With an infection, high fever, etc and you want me to drink a SODA????
Anyone who has given birth also knows about peri-bottles. well when the water came on it was brown and they wanted me to use that in the bottle....with an infection. Nice, huh?
On the 3rd day, late in the day I was allowed to go home with our little bundle.
I found my friends had rearranged my house and cleaned it. I was exhausted but thrilled. Our marriage had brought its first blessing home.

Today that little boy is sprouting chin hairs, has a voice deeper than his dad's and is now officially taller than me... barely. And he turns 14. Not a baby anymore.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

my grandma

For my Grandma T;

Upon this last breath I give her up and trust her to the Lord's embrace. She will feel no more of these worldly things that cause us hurt.

Her pearly white locks will be full of color and youth, her eyes sparkling with joy and excitement as she wanders her grandfathers shop of second hand goods on the end of eternity street. Her soft wrinkled skin will be firm with the color of springtime blossoms reflected in the perfection.

She will know the names of all those who passed before her- the ones she has poured over for years- and now she will have a face to go with. She can ask the questions of them that sit open in those books of history with no answer we know now. And we will envy this knowledge with a smile.

She will sit at a table with her mother and daddy; engaging in loving banter, laughter and joy. She will prepare a place for her lover, her child, her progeny, and wait patiently for us to join her- enjoining us to wait for our time and not come too soon.

She will no longer roll beside us in her scooter, will not guide us over the phone, will not chide us lovingly for a poor choice. She will not holler "Worth" with that disapproving voice when he tells an all too colorful family story... nor will she call out, "Worth" when she seeks his guidance, his voice, his wisdom to balance with hers.

She will not dance with her granddaughters for now. She will no longer crochet an afghan to wrap around us on cold nights when we cry our tears over her passing and her personalized patches sewn with love on each one will become a legacy to future generations.

She is tiny again, a wraith of beauty that no one needs peach colored glasses to see clearly- they will all see her as her beloved did for over 58 years. She now lives in our memories as all too human and frail- not the woman of strength and character we knew- but one whose strength we only now begin to grasp.

Her loving arms will not hold another generation and her missing birthday cards will be the most painful moment of each of our birthdays for years to come. There will be no more PTA baths- instead her lithe heavenly form, slipping gently into sweetly scented pools of crystal clear water that slide over her skin like silk and she breathes deeply and swims with no effort as far as the eye can see.

We will catch our breath as we feel the tears run down our cheeks, struggling to swallow, grasping for solace in words that right now are so lacking in solace... and yet.... we are filled with joy for her- with love that words cannot express our respect, honor, awe, tribute and adoration.

Instead of locked to a chair, taking each breathe from a tube, she will run, ski on one ski, rebuild an engine, climb to a roof, and never, ever need to worry that she cannot breathe.

Now she will dance with cousins long gone, fish with her daddy, walk with our Jesus and know a peace we could not give her here. She will be free, glancing back with a loving expression as if to say- "you will be okay, I taught you well. It is time for you and me both to fly."

And then she will.