Category: love

discretion, friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Karma Gets It Right Again

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This morning, I’m raising a mimosa to Karma – acknowledging that once again, the truck rolled up the right driveway and gave back to two people what they have so generously put out into the world.  Salut!  L’chaim! Cheers!  Down In One! (oh..never mind the last one – I was having a throwback moment to my freshman year in college.  Note to David – this is not what Eric is doing – he is studying assiduously.

You see, yesterday an incredibly wonderful, warm, beautiful, generous, fantastic friend of mine got married.  My own personal experience tells me that the act of marriage is not always the great big hug from the universe you think you’re receiving.  Sometimes it is a painful, difficult and hurtful lesson that you have got to learn, intentionally masked by flowers, good food and music.  But this is different.  Yesterday the karma truck rolled up my friend’s driveway to celebrate the kind of love that the universe offers as its finest gift to those who are richly deserving.  Their lessons have been hard and emotionally painful, requiring that identities get rebuilt later in life than one might prefer.  Teardowns and subsequent reconstruction is hard work – projects ideally not taken on during one’s renaissance (so much nicer than ‘middle age’). Ironically, the effort that was required resulted in the emergence of two remarkable people with a dawning understanding that this was who they were before they kept adding to their exteriors (which was done to protect what was inside).

And they are amazing people.  I can ‘feel’ her essence from hundreds of miles away.  She knows what I am thinking though she has never met me.  Our emails are prescient and eerie, as if we are connected by some invisible cord that tugs when the other may be in need.  But this isn’t about how special she is to me.  Rather she brings her heart – open and huge – to the world around her.  In her writing, her spirited commitment to others, the magnificent love that just emanates from her whether she wants it to or not.  She is not perfect – that’s not what good karma is all about.  She brings her best self into the kitchen each morning and makes sure that it is reflected onto the day’s canvas.  And if her best self isn’t feeling all the great, she puts on a sweater to limit what others may see until she is ready and treats it gently, tiptoeing into the day, lowering the risk that she could do any harm (she couldn’t).

What she and her husband (she has to practice saying that I think) have is a bond that is so strong and unbreakable that it still surprises them after many years together.  He is her grounding when she flies too close to the sun; she is his ardent fan and passionate supporter should the crowds not fill the stands.  They understand that the magnificence of love is in the giving – and they give to each other without hesitation, caveat or limitation.  They have received what they so richly deserve, for I don’t know anyone other than my friend who begins the day thinking first about others, with almost too little regard for herself.

So I’m lovin’ the karma truck today.  And I couldn’t let a momentous occasion go without my own little wedding reception.  When it’s time for the toast, I hope everyone raises their glass and asks that Love smile on them and be good to them from now until forever.  May laughter and light fill their home.  Enjoy good health, great wine and best friendship.  And know always how much you are loved – by many.  We are  honored to be your friends.

 

discretion, friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

The Summer Isn’t Even Over Yet

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Ok, I admit – the sun is waking up a bit later these days, and the leaves are beginning to take on a yellowish cast that suggest a certain malaise with the whole summer season.  It’s like they’re waiting for permission to fall – they’ve upheld their end of the bargain for months.  And it’s certainly cooler and quieter in the darkness of the morning, though the stars have been amazingly enthusiastic in appearance.  But last I looked it’s still summer in this part of the world, and dammit, I’m not ready to call it over.

So why are the supermarkets starting to sell Halloween candy?  Why am I seeing store sales for sweaters and jackets when the mere thought of such encumbrances makes me break out in a full-blown glow that requires showering in the middle of the day?  And most importantly, why oh why do I have to hear, read, watch political ads in every possible media forum available?  I’m sorry –  I don’t find any of it fascinating, because I question the veracity of every assertion.  I’m crossing every party line when I write this – for though it would seem that much of the population enjoys the divisiveness, attack ads, accusations and vitriol – perhaps I am a minority of one.  I don’t know what will bring us together when so much time is spent fueling disparity and hostility.  I’ not naive, I know politics isn’t a nice business – it just seems to get uglier to me though.  Perhaps it’s because it is a process that seems never-ending, or maybe it suffers from the absence of the gentler winds of summer.  I tire of verbs like ‘pandering’, adjectives like ‘ineffectual’, comments that suggest that we are so far behind the eight ball there is nothing left for which to be proud and strong.

So, if I could paint the world in my colors, there’d be fewer primary colors right now (pun intended).  There’d be a more effusive use of pastels, with striking, unequivocal hues left for the issues which unite humanity.  Ah, this is a throwback from my love child days I guess.  I want my own crayons thank you very much, and I want to paint a gentler backdrop for our conversations to continue.

This quote from Robert Fulghum comes to mind – “Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon.  A happiness weapon.  A beauty bomb.  And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one.  It would explode high in the air – explode softly – and send thousands, millions , of little parachutes into the air.  Floating down to earth – boxes of Crayola.  And we wouldn’t go cheap, either – not little boxes of eight.  Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in.  With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest.  And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with their imagination.”

Yes it’s naive, even childish – I’ll own it.  But given this flight of fancy on these waning summer days, what would you draw?  What would you give the world that it could cherish and elicit a smile, a laugh?  If we started from a  place of similarity and hope.  As you picked up your Crayola box, with all those brilliant colors all sharp and ready for your imagination to color the world.  It’s your mural – what would you like it to reflect?  Mine would be full of light and wishes and a lousy attempt at drawing fireflies.  It would have children of all shapes and sizes and talents and colors.   I’d color doors that are open.   And I would send a message up to the sky asking for a little more kindness, a bit more humor and a little more time.  It’s your turn – what’s on your easel?

 

 

anxiety, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Hedging My Bets

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“Superstition is foolish, childish, primitive and irrational – but how much does it cost you to knock on wood?”  — Judith Viorst

You know by now that I believe that our outlook on life is largely dependent upon what we choose to see.  If we are suspicious by nature, we will find much to be wary about;  if driven by the need to find fault – there’s more than enough out there to satisfy the need; the shallow heart will find no grace, etc.  The converse is also true – if you find this world an intriguing place to be, I promise you moments upon moments of wonder.  And, if you have a tendency to stare life in the face with a smile – there is much to find that will amuse and delight.  Yes, yes I know – once again I am being simplistic, for I am not writing about the horrors that cannot be avoided, the wars that continue without surcease (or even purpose at times), the frightening twists of fate that defy explanation.  So bear with me here, and let’s go back to the original premise, ok?

I spent yesterday afternoon in a hospital waiting room – Andy had to have his knee scoped and a ligament tear repaired.  First and foremost, he’s fine.  He was in the operating room for under thirty minutes, recovery for an hour or so and when I saw him in recovery, he was sucking down Diet Pepsi like it was nectar and tearing open saltines and graham crackers as if they were haute cuisine.  His eyes were bright, his thoughts a little muddled and his awareness of the crumbs falling down onto his blankets as he inhaled whatever the nurses gave him, definitely compromised.  In other words – my boy was back.  And I whispered “thank you”.

But this is about the micro-society known as ‘the waiting room’.  Fascinating place.  Just to caveat this – this is the waiting room for same-day surgeries – everyone gets to go home at the end of the day.  In the back of the room, there was a family of eight – they brought enough food with them to feed a third world country and the smells were overwhelming.  An abundance of mayonnaise, ham and cheese and popcorn really smells. First they thanked God for their food, then conversation began to flow which resembled a meeting of people with ADD or no real interest in engaging each other in conversation..

“When is Buddy gonna stop visiting with her?  I want to go back before they take her”

“Did you hear about Renee’s son?  I don’t want to say anything but he is t-r-o-u-b-l-e.  What?  Oh, believe me I can tell – even before they’re walkin’ I can tell.”

“Sugar, hit me with some of that Pepsi will you?”

“I heard that John was seen messin’ with that girl who just started workin’ at his job.  No, I didn’t see them, but I’ve heard.”

“Anyone seen Buddy?”

You get the picture.  When Buddy came back, he advised that their loved one had gone to the operating room, which did prompt ten seconds of silence (thank you Buddy).  Disjointed talking resumed.  As soon as the doctor came to tell them that all had gone well, there was a chorus of perfectly timed “Thank You Jesus, Mary and Joseph” and a short prayer recited by all giving thanks for everything going well.  Honestly, I was surprised they could say anything in unison – let alone the same thing in unison.

The woman sitting next to me was waiting for her husband to have knee replacement surgery.  She told me all about her own knee injury from years ago, her daughter and son-in-law, (they separated for awhile but now they’re back together, “knock on wood”) and what a crotchety patient her spouse was going to be (“I can say that now that I know he’s going to be just fine,” she said).  The gentleman to my right was on the phone talking about some horrid surgery he had had on his shoulder, with details so graphic I had to get up and get some water.  And I couldn’t help but overhear, “Don’t say that man, no jinxes, ok?”

Miscellaneous information – the volunteers who keep families apprised of patients’ statuses are women over the age of ninety-five.  Very sweet, all three wearing wigs that in one way or another need some adjustment (I swear, one woman had lost her forehead under that hair), all six freckled hands ended each conversation with a pat on the back, the shoulder, etc.  Well, all conversations when they weren’t talking amongst themselves about going to see The King And I at WolfTrap this Friday, their seats, favorite songs, what to wear.  But how can you begrudge anyone that senior who is volunteering their time, when it’s the one item in their pantry in the most limited supply?

I could go on – the waiting room was full.  I learned about procedures, siblings, a teenager who broke his wrist during pre-season football practice (his mom insisting it was because he wasn’t wearing his St. Christopher medal, his dad disagreeing and blaming it on his son being out with his friends the night before practice – we are always looking for explanations aren’t we – even when it’s an accident).  Adult identical twin sisters wearing the exact same outfits – ‘for luck’.

By the time I saw Andy, I was more than ready to leave this hive with its cacophony of buzzes.  But I’m no different – just quieter.  I whispered my prayer to the morning sky, making sure I could spot a star before any words came from my lips.  Last week, when another member of our family was in the hospital, I paced and negotiated and kept looking for signs to assure me all was well.  My friend Suz says that when she sees a dragonfly, she thinks it’s a sign from her dad.  Suz, I’ve seen an abundance of dragonflies lately.  One even stopped and hovered in front of me for a few seconds.  I did say “Hi Sam” – even though he and I never met.  The other morning, with no wind tickling the trees and the sun not yet awake, one tree began to sway with determination –  demanding that I notice.  One of my angels?  A message from the universe that it knew I was there?  I prefer those notions over any explicable scientific phenomena.  Why there are more butterflies hanging around than usual or why the twin fawns rest in our backyard with no intention of fleeing even when they hear the Sirs and I on the deck.

Superstitions?  My mother saying “tu tu tu” (or something pretty close to that) every time someone would say anything that needed to be protected from a negative result,  wishing someone well and hearing them say “from your mouth to God’s ear”…There’s a negative connotation to superstition; a more understandable and accepted perspective when one attributes such actions to faith or tradition.  At the end of the day, we’re hedging our bets when faced with a situation that could end either way.  We’re putting our money on faith and hope.  And we’re betting it all.

discretion, friendship, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness, motivation

Joy – Part II

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I met Leo Buscaglia twice when I was in grad school – he was just as you would imagine a person nicknamed “Dr. Love” to be.  He believed in the absolute power of touch and when he hugged you, not only did you feel it vibrate through your body, you would see the sheer delight on his face at having had the experience.  The experience of giving I would add, for certainly those of us who were not acolytes, were left a bit taken aback, amused and feeling good.  Hesitant to adopt any practice that we doctoral candidates (with the hubris that comes with thinking you’re too-too smart) felt may be too cult-like.  But there was unquestionably something to what the good doctor had to say as witnessed by his hypnotic lectures and laudable legacy.

So, I return to the Buscaglia quote I reblogged from Dr. Bill Wooten this morning….When assessing the life you have led, “[d]id you bring joy?” and “[d]id you find joy?”  I don’t think these are easy or trite questions.  We have known joy certainly – a love-filled relationship, the birth of a child, the delight in seeing a sunrise, the first bite of a ripe peach…But do we bring joy to another, to this life – or do we wait for joy to arrive?  That’s a different question, for it implies the one thing that we all struggle with – recognizing that those things which are most important don’t seem to be about what’s in it for us.  It isn’t all about us.  It’s about what we bring, give, share – for the sake of others, not because of what we seek in return or exchange.  The ‘tit-for-tat’ by which so many of our relationships can be defined.  Bringing joy then is a pretty selfless act.  And perhaps we are fortunate enough to see the result of our efforts, perhaps not.  Yet either way, the importance is in the doing.

And finding the joy?  Maybe it is a rhetorical question that is answered when we are conscious of what we bring into life.  The idea that if we bring joy, we will find joy – if in nothing other than our actions.  The joy in making people laugh, engage, love freely.  The delight in treading gently enough on this earth so that we may experience all of its wonders for as long as possible.  Maybe this is all obvious, maybe it is something that we know, but get lulled into the passive position of waiting for someone else to bring it anyway.  Somehow though I think that two simple questions can reawaken our awareness of each other and why we’re here.  And we can look to the universe to affirm that the joy we make, is equal to the joy we take (to paraphrase The Beatles).

friendship, life lessons, love

A Friday For Lissie & Susan

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One of those strange weeks where nothing is really wrong and yet…well, meh.  I lost a gorgeous day to a migraine, fell out of step with one of my kids (which is not to say we are at odds – we’re not, I’m just out of sync).  I’m missing a friend’s wedding out-of-state today and am feeling a little a bit petulant. And as you can imagine, I don’t do petulance well.  So I’m going to turn it around, focus on the specialness of this day for Lissie and Susan.  And around 12:30 this afternoon I’m going to whisper “Congratulations!! May you always live in love and health and joy”..and that alone will make this a lovely day..

friendship, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness, music

What Feels Good..

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When I’m at the gym, I listen to my iPod with such intensity that I typically have no clue what is going on around me.  It’s the only way for me to work hard – I need the rhythm.  There are tv screens all over the place – your eyes can’t avoid them (probably a good thing, so you don’t end up staring at other people – that would just be weird for everybody).  So the news is on…I’m reading that the President’s dog needs to go on a diet.  Ok, we’ve had three Portuguese Water dogs, I love the breed, Bo is adorable.  Cute piece.  There was some discussion about who was going to replace Regis Philbin on a morning talk show.  Yawn…Some guy wants to be on a dance show…Prince Harry playing in Vegas…I begin to look down, nodding in time to The Killers.

The screen switched to the in-studio couch and there is a glowing African-American woman sitting there.  She is in cancer remission due to a bone marrow transplant provided by an anonymous donor.  Her smile was wide, her warmth palpable.  In the wings her husband was grinning and taking pictures, her children watching seriously as she anticipated meeting the donor for the first time.  This woman was extraordinary in spirit and determination, yet clearly with a lovely, soft touch.   Finding donors for African-American leukemia patients is particularly difficult, with a smaller percentage of donors, and matches few and far between.  And though she remained hopeful, by the time she received the call that a donor had been found she was exhausted.  Her donor was a 100% match – incredibly rare indeed.  We learn that the donor is a senior in college, and he is then introduced.  A handsome young white guy.  I’m watching, the music in my ears is now Greg Allman’s “I’m No Angel” and tears are streaming down my face.  These two marvelous people, hugging and recognizing the heroic proportions of their story.  He saved her life; she fought to live.  And the words that kept repeating across the bottom of the screen “I love you”  “I love you too”  “I love you”…

This isn’t a pitch to become a bone marrow donor (though I think if you can, it’s a wonderful thing to do).  Nor is it a recommendation for morning television (remember before this story, I was reading a ticker dealing with Bo’s weight, Regis Philbin and a reality dance show – which in and of itself is an oxymoron, but whatever).    What stayed with me was the sheer beauty of two people from different places, of different ethnicity, age, marital status etc, being perfect for each other in the most life affirming way possible.   Put all else aside – the derisiveness of the US political campaign rhetoric, the divisions we create to further our own sense of rightness (or leftness), the preconceived notions we may hold about/against others.  Put it away.  It doesn’t help you or anyone else.  On the contrary, it diminishes the fundamental reason why we’re all here at the same time.  To make one life better maybe?  To love our family and our friends without qualification?  To feel the wonder and power and humility that comes with knowing that each of us can change the course of another person’s life by a word or deed?  I’m done – this is going to become trite and drenched in a syrupy clichéd concoction and that’s the last thing I wish for you to take away from this.  I hope it makes you feel good, and warm, and important to many – even those you may never know.  “And it’s ever present everywhere…”  Enjoy.

friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness, motivation

The Half And Half In My Coffee

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I love coffee with half and half (for those of you outside the US – it’s half cream/half milk available in supermarkets everywhere around here).  My efforts ate healthy eating stops at the suggestion that this indulgence be sacrificed.  Can’t do it.  Won’t do it.  It makes my morning coffee more delicious in color and taste, allowing me to savor what one might call nectar from the gods.  Yes, I’m crazy about my morning coffee.  What does this have to do with you?

You’re my metaphorical half and half.  Seriously.  Taking baby steps to try to learn to write is something I am doing for me; the feedback and comments and conversations that we share engage, inform, inspire and amaze me.  And the generous praise I have received humbles me more than I can say.  I’m not that good – trust me.  You however, are phenomenal.  I received four awards over the past few days and for brevity and not a little self-consciousness, I’m going to acknowledge them in this post (and yes, despite my overall discomfort with accepting awards – I practiced my Oscar speech a hundred times when I was a kid…also my Grammy thank you..my Tony…my Emmy..).

Judy who writes raisingthecurtain.net is gifted with a delightful sense of humor and curiousity.  She is exploring all the aspects of her second act and sharing some observations about what to do once the curtain goes up.  If you have not visited her site, enjoy the show…Thank you so much Judy for three awards (talk about a bouquet of appreciation)  –


             And from adogwithfleas@wordpress.com, I was given the

                                                                    award.

A Dog With Fleas is where one goes to hear your own voice (but in better form).  Her writing reflects the challenges many experience daily – the dance of falling down and standing up taller, living with chronic medical issues, learning how to love one’s self and others, the mysteries and vagaries of the opposite sex, the indescribable feeling of a hearty laugh.  Scratch your itch at her site (get it, fleas?? Oh, I kill me  – you will be so glad you did.

Ok, quickly now – the requisite seven things about me (sigh, I find this part difficult)…

1. I think I’m far more graceful than I am.  Witness the ten stitches in one leg and an infected gash in the other and the gross bandages that cover both.  I limp into the gym and everyone cuts me a wide berth (no pun intended).  Suffice it to say – don’t leave metal step-up boxes within tripping distance of me.  Actually, just cut me a wide berth on general principle.

2. I have always been and continue to be a cheap date (though Andy would insist that ultimately there’s a price to be paid which is probably true).

3. I read between two and three books a week.

4. My iPod selection would embarrass or impress my kids, my in-laws, my friends and The Buena Vista Social Club.  Let’s just say that ‘eclectic’ doesn’t cover it.

5. My first crush that wasn’t an animal (the first being Gold Nugget – a palomino – I loved her) was Harry Belafonte.  I thought he was the most gorgeous man I had ever seen and would make my dad put his album on the stereo over and over (and over) again.  “She had one eye on the pot and the other on the chimney” – a lyric which makes me smile still.

6. I’m actually pretty boring – it’s everything around me that’s interesting.

7. For reasons that I do not know I’m a very good mimic.

Now for the fun stuff – who should be the next bearers of these awards?  I am trying very hard to make sure that I’m not repeating myself, so to those I have already mentioned – I still think you’re magical.  To these new bloggers I follow – I am so glad we have ‘met’ –

Paperkeeper@wordpress.com

Keiththegreen@wordpress.com

SusanLDanielseden@wordpress.com

Onthehomefrontandbeyond@wordpress.com

wordsbecomesuperfluous.com

sbkandassociates.com

johnrchildress.com

Thank you again for enjoying the blog, sharing your thoughts with me, and embracing me in this community of talent and heart and inspiration.

friendship, humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness, music

Sittin’ Back Sunday

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This weekend has been full of  disconnected moments – and a quick snapshot is all I can offer because each is too big standing on its own.

A dear, special friend returning after a three-year silence, that has been full of so much loss and pain and sorrow it devastates me to think I wasn’t allowed in for all that time.  Yet sitting in the kitchen for hours, we moved so quickly back in time.  Welcome home, I’ve missed you.

Wonderful new friends returning from memories made with their families, ensuring that this too will be a summer remembered.  May those moments be forever etched in your hearts.

Incredible people straddling two chapters in their lives – the one that is about to end and the one that is waiting to be started.  Let it be breathless and gorgeous and all that you deserve.

A young woman celebrating her impending wedding with her amazing stepmother and sisters, and adoring friends – all who love her despite her Bridezilla moments.  Remember to laugh and let go – it’s not about anything if it’s not about love.

The connection between two people that prompts them to check in ‘just because’.  How can anyone begin to understand wavelengths like that?  I am reminded daily that the best things defy explanation.

Too many political diatribes about the senior population defined as anyone “55 or older” – this means I’m a senior.  I reject this completely…well ok…. if I can’t reject it completely, I am now a constituency of one called the ‘junior senior’ cause I’m just not ready for anything else.   Oh – anyone is welcome to join.  I intend to be an old woman some day.

And as the rain begins to pummel the skylights, I think a little easy listening is in order to get all of us ready for whatever tomorrow holds.  Hey big guy, this is for you.

 

 

anxiety, discretion, friendship, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness

Those Damn Curveballs

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I’m not even a baseball aficionado and even I know what curveballs are.  They’re the frustrating pitches that start straight and then curve into a ridiculous arc making the likelihood of a hit far lower than if the pitcher had thrown straight.  

My friends have been getting thrown curveballs lately and it’s messing with their batting average and more importantly their spirits.  I have read about people struggling with the darker moments from their past, spoken with those who are feeling concern about emotional u-turns that keep occurring despite smarter GPS systems in their heads, significant losses and little gains that don’t really offset the enormity of sorrow, relapses, physical challenges, regrets…And I can’t fix any of it, because I wasn’t given that extraordinary power (though I fancy Tinkerbell as one of my favorite characters – I just would like her wand though).

I had no intention of writing about this today – I was going to write something about management.  Once again, my heart over-ruled my head – it seems to do that a lot.  Be forewarned, I don’t have any magical answers and I doubt my words can change hurts that run so deep.  I can only be here.  We can only be here for those we love and care about.  I do know that it is important to honor pain as much as one should embrace happiness.  They are flip sides of the same coin and for reasons I can’t explain, sometimes the coin lands on the wrong side.  We lose people we adore and have to recalibrate our balance so that we can still hold them in our heart while railing that we can’t hold them in our arms.  Our bodies refuse to comply with our directions to always stay strong.  Hearts get broken and the energy just isn’t there to find the paste and glue.  Or it’s the wrong kind of Elmer’s and doesn’t work on major organs.  So what to do, how to cope, how to head back to the dug-out after striking out despite your best efforts (that’s it for the analogy, I promise).

Some days the best we can do is breathe.  Just breathe.  Get through the day and notice that there is nothing required of us other than that.  Listen to the wind as it weaves it’s way around the tops of the trees.  Cry.  Cry some more.  Eat a little bit if you can.  And every time you begin to judge what you’re doing, anytime a ‘should’ pops into your brain – invite it to leave.  Now isn’t the time.  There are no ‘shoulds’.  There is just this moment, and this is the moment that you have to get through – no more – until the next moment.  Letting our thoughts go is a hard exercise, wondering is a human condition – and often elicits wonderful thoughts.  No wondering today – for the answers aren’t going to offer solace.  Life is.  That is all for today.

And if you have the energy, as weird as it may sound – do something good for another person.  Nothing huge, a ‘thank you’ will do.  Perhaps “can I help you with that?” as an older person struggles with his/her groceries.  Let someone who appears to be in a hurry take your place in line.  Buy a sandwich for a homeless person.  In the throes of despair the one thing that hints of the promise of a better tomorrow is generating kindness.  It takes us out of ourselves, even briefly.  And the effect of gratitude and appreciation reinforces the goodness of who you are (regardless of what you may be thinking of yourself at the moment).

“When you carry out acts of kindness you get a wonderful feeling inside.  it is as though something inside your body responds and says, yes, this is how I ought to feel” — Harold Kushner

It may seem counterintuitive – we want people to be kind to us when we’re going through our own hell.  Yet this is the only way I have found to make  a positive impact on my own spirit when it’s overwhelmed with struggle.  In college we would call it ‘doing a solid’ – a solid, small act of goodness that brings us back to the reality that what you’re going through does not define you.  It is depleting you perhaps, but doesn’t come close to touching all the goodness that you are.  And in that moment of giving, I guarantee you that you will feel slightly lighter.  For a little while, you will be lighter.  Breathing, kindness and the smallest of smiles.  That is what I wish you for today.  I will save the big, over-the-top exuberant, life affirming wishes for another day – for I know that day too will come.

And in stereo-typical Jewish mother language, there’s something to be said for a little chicken soup too.  Try and have a sip – it’ll help..

humor, inspiration, life lessons, love

And One For Good Luck..

mimijk

Twenty years ago tomorrow, Andy and I will celebrate twenty years of marriage.  Given that neither one of us got this right the first time (with an exemption for our kids), this seems like a staggeringly long time.  And yet, time is fickle – for it also seems like yesterday.  Yesterday when I broke out in hives an hour before the wedding,  scared out of my mind about what we were about to do.  Could we do this right?  Would our children be ok?   My mother patting foundation all over my hyper-ventilating chest, Andy coming up to my parents’ bedroom to remind me that all was going to be more than fine.  He was right.

Twenty years since I walked through my parents’ backyard, meeting Andy under my grandfather’s prayer shawl – held high by four poles – one held by his parents, another by my mom and dad,  and our two sisters holding the remaining two.  Our three boys and three nieces crowding around us as the rabbi began to speak (“Mommy, I want cake…is it time for cake yet?”  “You’re gonna be my aunt now”  “Stop pushing me”  “Cake?”)…One little boy holding on to the sash of my dress, another grabbing a leg and the littlest rubbing his nose and making little sneezes.  And Andy looking at me with more love than I had ever known, handsome, confident enough for the whole lot of us as we moved forward into this new life.  I got stuck on my vows and the rabbi stopped to remind me that “we’re all here with you Mimi”…I nodded that I knew, but all that mattered was that Andy knew.  And when he later said that the five of us were all getting married, you could hear the one child sigh “Oh brother”…We kissed through our laughter;  Andy held the back of my head with one hand, and held me up with the other.

The rain stopped long enough for the ceremony and the party – the skies re-opened as everyone left.  They say that’s a good omen.  I have no idea if that’s true or not.  What I do believe, is that which the rabbi reminded us under the chuppah – we are not lucky, we are blessed.  And though he lets me keep my sneakers in the garage, and the contract under constant re-write, there’s nowhere to go without Andy.  I am more sure of this today than I was twenty years ago.  We have created history – some which I’m sure we recall with sorrow – most of which we can remember with pride and laughter.  And twenty years from now?  He’ll still be my anchor and I’ll be his kite.

We danced to this song twenty years ago, and though we’re hardly Fred and Ginger (probably more like Fred and Wilma), I don’t remember my feet touching the ground..I love you big guy..

humor, inspiration, life lessons, love, mindfulness, parenting

Re-entry Isn’t Easy…

mimijk

It’s good to be home – with too much laundry, too little food in the fridge and a whole lot of warm fuzzies in my heart for this remarkable family o’ mine.  The delight of feeling cool air on my face,  the awesome humility that one feels when looking at the silhouette of mountains which stand boldly reminding me of how inconsequential I am in the phenomenon known as the world.

Seeing the boys in the morning as they would arrive in the kitchen for coffee, still bearing a resemblance of the little guys they once were – hair messed, eyes puffy, faces still soft with sleep.  Tender silence and soft chatter about the plans for the day.  They’d go off to golf with Andy while the girls (women really, but everything is relative – pun intended) and I lagged behind, holding on to the morning without the requirement of tee times.  A trip to the gym, a morning at the spa…blackberry picking and wine tasting, time for some reading and napping and talking.

Later in the day, I’d lie down in our room just to listen to the banter of these six amazing people, their laughter like music on the air.  The back-and-forth of their teasing – relentless though it seems to me, a pleasure for them.  We’re as dysfunctional as any other family – with regrets and memories that still itch under the skin – and love that can both soothe and singe.  And when we parted with whispered “I love you s” there remains the unspoken comfort that wherever they go, we are all together regardless.  Fiercely protective of each other, defending our family craziness with defiance and moving forward with the certainty that there will always, always be us.  And I cry as always, for my body can’t hold all this love and there are no words to explain the tears.  One will hug extra hard, one will tease me until I laugh and one will email me later to check in with the crazy woman they have for a mother.

“This is part of what a family is about, not just love.  It’s knowing that your family will be there watching out for you.  Nothing else will give you that.  Not money.  Not fame.  Not work.”  — Mitch Albom

And for my boys and their loves, for Andy – I love you all more than my heart can possibly hold.  Welcome home.