The Ocean's Response

1. Ride the waves.

2. Enjoy the ride.

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Do Not Blog While Grumpy

This is probably sound advice.

I think I've been on Facebook too much lately.

I'm realizing that I am not getting any more used to all the profanity, homosexual banter, and angry rantings. Rather, I am finding that I feel like I am taking a bath in very dirty water. Now, what to do with this dilemma. I actually care about the people I am friends with on Facebook. Want to be a warm and accepting person in re other people. Just wondering how it came to be that unwholesome (now there's an old-fashioned word) communication is apparently not only acceptable but even preferable.

When I think of parents that I have looked up to, I know they would not want their children to be using profanity regularly and lightly, joking in relatively graphic terms about homosexual topics, and dismissing the world or parts thereof with acerbic, bitter, or caustic comments. Of course, most of the parents I look up to were heavy into parenting BEFORE the Facebook era. (BFE)

I want my children and other young adults i love to care about protecting the sensibilities of others by caring about what they are posting. The ocean comes to mind, since i am on the beach. i stood in the waves yesterday and felt their strong pull -- both shoreward and out to sea. I could no more stop those waves than I could create the ocean. So, digging my heels in to stop the waves wouldn't have the desired outcome. I do get weary of "going with the flow" all the time, but there must be a sense in which taking a stand for a minute, to at least stand strong against the waves, can have an affect on me, even if the waves do not stop. The whole analogy, for those who cannot read my mind, is about the tidal wave of language on Facebook, both word choice and usage.

Do other parents intentionally steer clear of their kids' Facebook pages so as not to know, keeping their head in the sand, as it were? I hate the feeling of sand in my ears, eyes, mouth and nose, so that doesn't really work for me. Do other parents steer clear of their kids' Facebook pages because they believe "kids will be kids" and the kind of communication happening on Facebook is just fine?

So what do I want? I want to be in communication with my own kids and their friends. And I'm realizing that just reading status updates is not being in communication, even if it may be what passes for communication these days. I suppose it's up to me what I read on Facebook, as I do have options to hide and de-friend people. And I want to be an actor, an originator, not just a receptor and reactor.

As usual, this blog entry helped me think through what it is I want, and I just shared it with those few people who also read this blog. Never a dull moment for those who are simply trying to live life as people who love and care about others.

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There's a Reason Why People Always ...

write about the sea.

Between Hemingway and Melville and lots of other people, plenty has been written about the ocean, so I hardly think I'm going to add anything particularly original here, but the ocean is just so rife with meaning and beauty and grace and experience.

Man, I love the ocean. I love the expanse. I love the depth. I love the Mariana Trench. I love the waves and the tides and the beach and the sand. I love the lantern fish. It's all just really beautiful.

I know. I wax eloquent. But I got to introduce Kepler to the ocean today. I remember when our older kids saw the ocean for the first time and that was a sweet time, but Kepler's experience is quite a bit more present to me.

I think of the ocean like I think of love. When you experience genuine love, you want more and more of it, like the ocean. The ocean draws you in little by little like love does. The ocean is wild and dangerous and exciting, like love is. Love, like the ocean, has meaning and beauty and grace and experience. And there ya go. Love and the ocean. Both irresistible. Both larger than life.

Think I figured it out.

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Got Momentum?

That's a big 10-4, Good Buddy.

After Eli and I attended Unleash the Power Within, I absorbed even more of Tony's teaching in his Time of Your Life time management course. I, too, had been to the time management courses that taught me how to prioritize my to-do list (A, B, C), and instructed me to be ruthless about doing the things on my list in the order proscribed. That particular ABC course was in 1986. I was a young college grad working for the College while Greg did his graduate work, and I actually found the concept pretty helpful. But nowhere in that or any other course until this one was the question of fulfillment addressed. TR points out that you can complete everything on your list, yet if you end up no more fulfilled than you were when you started, it's simply a to-do list. Tasks without meaning behind them are nothing more than tasks.

Contrast that with first figuring out what you want, and why, and THEN figuring out the how's, or the to-do portion of the list.

Valerie graduates tomorrow. A few weeks ago I heard she and the other seniors were going out for dinner tonight. That sparked an idea for me to host a dinner for them in our home. Well, first of all, we have a really. little. home. Big yard, yes, but small home. Where was I going to put them all (total of 13)? And from that stress-inducing question, I could go into major "how" mode, and probably come up with a plan, and probably be a-stressin about it every step of the way. Instead, I started with "What do I want?" and realized that I wanted to provide a space for the students to share a meal, make memories, laugh, and have fun together; with a menu, layout and agenda that would empower these students to be launched into their future; celebrate their accomplishments by giving them a place to just be together without any pressure to perform.

The second piece, the "why" of the "what," is also essential. It's the piece I need to have in place to refer to in the process of bringing the vision to fruition. The answer to the "why" was because I believe that making memories is a valuable, worthwhile, meaningful activity, especially when the memories involve laughter, fun, and joy.

It was at THIS point that I felt sufficiently focused to come up with the "how."

The dinner was last evening. Even though Greg was still out of town and I was therefore responsible for all the logistics myself and/or for enlisting the help of several others such as my sisters and b-in-law, I enjoyed the entire process from start to finish. Planning the menu, communicating with the students, shopping for and preparing the food, enlisting the help of Eli and two of his friends to be my "wait staff." (They were adorable, hilarious, and added a lot of fun to the proceedings). Decorating the table. Using some of the beautiful things I have (china, goblets), and enjoying the eclectic nature of the table since everything I have comes in sets of 1-8, but certainly not 12 or 13!

This concept -- getting clear about what I want, and why -- has empowered me to go beyond the mere crossing-off of things on my list. I was trying to remember this Nietzsche quote: "If you know the why, you can live any how." but I think that quote has a different emphasis than the point I'm trying to make, which is: "If you build the why, the how will come." Having a how that is fulfilling a why? That really works.

The senior dinner was easily the singularly most relaxed entertaining I have ever done, and I made all the food myself, including homemade bread! (H/T to Costco, though, for the super cake). And when I look back at the description of what I wanted, I realize I got every bit of that. And the why? Yes, it was the reason I hosted the dinner, and I think, the reason it went so smoothly.

Check it out. Time of Your Life. The Cincinnati Public library system has a few copies, and it is WELL worth listening to the CD and watching the DVD. Of course, when I came to this course, I had already been converted to this mindset of going TO something, the idea of PULL motivation, so TOYL made perfect sense.

I created a tangible memory for the seniors, which you see in the picture (to be posted later). I used the Hobbiton font that Valerie loves. On the back of the page, I put the lyrics to City of Blinding Lights. And oh, the kids looked SO beautiful last night in all their youth and potential and yet-to-be-ness.

At the end of the day, many small decisions I had made over the course of the past few weeks had come together in a lovely harmony of homemaking and hospitality.

Congratulations, Class of 2011! I am so proud of all of you!!

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I Can See Clearly Now!

My cousin asked me to blog about my recent Lasik eye surgery, and I started a post the other day. I had to stop when I realized that my focus was on some of my past experiences with glasses and contacts, and that most of those experiences were painful in some way. Maybe those painful experiences will be a blog post sometime, but they weren't where I wanted to go.

I've been thinking about getting my vision corrected for years, since the early 1990's, when it was still RK and PRK, before Lasik even came along. I had my first Lasik eval in about 2002 but rejected the procedure because it was explained to me that my short-distance vision would be lost. What that meant to me was that I would never be able to see the faces of my babies and loved ones clear, at a close distance, and I simply could not give up that sweet closeness.

I decided to check into it again about a year ago, and started the process by getting mono-vision contacts to simulate having one eye corrected for distance and one for close-up. I liked the mono-vision, but wearing contacts was less than desirable to me, so I wore them infrequently, although enough to know that the MV would work for me.

After UPW (the Tony Robbins event I attended in March), I decided to take the next step, a full evaluation by my eye doc to determine how appropriate Lasik would be for me. They said all systems go, as did the eye surgeon, and surgery was scheduled for a couple of weeks out.

I felt very confident about having the procedure done ... until the night before the scheduled time. That's when I read the consent form, and I got very nervous about all the "what ifs" that were flying around in my brain. The main problem? I believed there was no possible way I could put myself out of commission (if something were to go less than optimally). I don't really have time right now to be sick or unable to drive or having to focus on some physical symptom. Valerie's graduation is coming up, Greg and Anna-Jessie's trip starts Thursday, GO Cincinnati is this weekend, and oh did I mention I have five kids, a husband, and a home to care for? And I've got the most marvelous momentum going, and I think my biggest fear was that the surgery would slow, stop, or actually reverse that momentum.

What got me to the table was remembering something I recently heard: If you CAN'T do something, you MUST do it. I understand this to mean that courage is called for in the face of fear. And so I dug down and found some courage and texted Greg that I thought it was going to be ok. And went to sleep.

Friday morning, we arrived early and went through a few details and then I walked into the operating theater, and Greg sat in the observation room, and actually watched (and VIDEOed!) the procedure.

The actual operation was pretty straightforward and easy. My biggest job was to remember to breathe and to keep focusing on that little blinking light. It was over almost before it started. I walked back into the examination room and sat in the patient chair. I could see out into the hall, and I was able to focus on the shelves that were 20 feet away, something I haven't been able to do for 6/7 of my life, and I almost cried at the miracle this was to be able to see.

Friday was a resting day, a sleeping day, a recovery day. Friday was a smooth day, but the night was not. The disturbance in the night was unrelated to my vision or the surgery, but demanded courage of a different kind. Maybe a blog post about that sometime; we'll see.

Saturday morning was the 24hr follow-up and all looked great to the doc.

Fluctuations in vision during the healing process are normal. Blinking usually clears things up, and I'm quickly forgetting what dependency on glasses feels like. I love being able to see. It's been a dream for years, to be able to see the world without some type of external lens to focus through, and that dream has now been realized.

As for the issue with the close vision, it's different than I thought. When I wore glasses, they corrected my nearsightedness and my farsightedness, but I had this precious close vision where I could see without any glasses at all -- a clarity unmatched by any corrected vision. Now I have the ability to see close AND far, and I can actually see close-up as well. There are some conditions where I can't see completely clearly, REALLY close-up, but I didn't actually lose the precious close-up vision, I gained a heck of a whole lot instead.

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That's my Grocery Bagger!

A buncha years ago, my groceries were sometimes bagged by Judy, a woman with short black hair, and the tell-tale features of Down syndrome on her face. I remember one day she was letting her mood direct her contact with my produce and bread, and it seemed to me they were getting short shrift. I remember feeling irritated with her, because MY produce and MY bread should only be treated with the utmost care. Right? Well, whatever. Then along came Kepler, and my understanding of and appreciate for Down syndrome changed dramatically. I guess Judy moved on because I didn't see her anymore. Until today.

This morning, I took Anna-Jessie to my mom's church at Mom's request. Her desire was for her entire extended family to be sitting in the second row at her church to celebrate this special day in the Christian calendar. Oh, I had plans for my entire family to be there, yes I did. And Gina was bringing her family, and Mindy was bringing Joelie. Our family would stuff a pew! Reality set in this morning, and long story short, Gina's family wasn't there, so it was just Mindy, Joelie, Anna-Jessie and myself. Mom's church is more traditional than Crossroads, but I know their music is awesome, having worked with the director at another church many years ago. Not to mention I know when my mother is excited about choral music, I tend to appreciate it as well.

And they sang . . .

The weight of sin, the sting of death
Were swallowed up by righteousness
Vanquished by the Son of God
It was finished on the cross
It was finished on the cross

Chorus
And we rejoice in victory
We lift our eyes to Calvary
Before the battle has begun
By Jesus’ blood it has been won
It was finished on the cross

His gift of grace our heart betrays
With urge to merit or repay
We need not live to pay the cost
For it was finished on the cross
It was finished on the cross

And I sang it too! I couldn't help but sing along with every song as the music was stirring, the chord progressions were harmonious, and the message was pure energy.

Suddenly, in the middle of the song, I noticed Judy. Right in the center of the front row. Singing these words with all her heart. Raising her hands in worship and praise. And it touched my heart so deeply. To think that a women who has the disability she has, with experiences in her life no doubt of being rejected and sidelined, has the opportunity to stand with other Christians and sing her heart out, affirming that her battle has been won. Tears rolled down my face as I considered how much love Christians give to others, how they include the marginalized and welcome them in with open arms.

Later, when talking with Mom about this, she told me that Judy actually sings in a monotone voice, yet she is welcomed into the choir. I love that.

I'm glad I saw Judy again. I didn't have a chance to talk with her today, but I was thankful for the opportunity to see her in a different light, one more loving and accepting than the one I had the first time I saw her many years ago. Again, I am thankful for Kepler. Again, I love the journey I am on.

Happy Easter.

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What Could it Mean?

I have a friend and fellow blogger who recently wrote a post on the commodification of water. I read posts like that and realize that there are definitely different types of blogging. His post was intellectual and dealt with big picture, important issues. But I'm really not so much about big-picture type things, other than the piece of the big picture that I can contribute to. Hopefully, at the end of the day, or the end of the post, I do contribute something to the big picture, as that is my heart. The best way I can do that is to express who I am.

Today, I'm writing about the Christmas cactus given to me by my grandmother about 10 years ago. When she gave it to me, she told me it was over 100 years old, which I found amazing, as it had been passed down through the family, and here it was, in my home, connected to all those people. I believe she said my great-grandmother had brought it to Oklahoma with her when they came for the Land Run of 1889. It has bloomed faithfully each year at least once, usually around Easter. I love the beautiful flowers. I treasure my Christmas cactus.

Recently, I noticed my cactus leaves were withering. Greg and I decided to re-pot, and sped to Lowe's to choose a larger pot. Came home with a large, ceramic pot, and Greg gave it all new soil and a new, fresh environment. He trimmed and pruned and we wished it well. But, the cactus still isn't thriving.

Another long-standing idea my grandmother passed down to me was the idea of not being enough. Don't get me wrong -- she never told ME I wasn't enough, but she clearly believed that she wasn't. Grandma created a beautiful life, and shared her creativity in so many ways with her family and friends. Each of my children has a homemade Raggedy Ann/Andy doll she hand-stitched from start to finish, including the clothes. I have written elsewhere about the privilege it is for me to have her china cabinet in my home. She was a inspiration for me, a strong woman, capable on the farm, a wondrous cook, full of humor and fun, patient with untangling the marionette strings we tangled up day after day, patient with grandchildren asking for help removing the ubiquitous Oklahoma stickers from our feet.

Grandma's fear of not being enough wasn't unique to her, but I bought the idea hook, link, and sinker. In my younger years, I tried hard to contradict the belief she had about herself. I saw her as a marvel, a light, a beacon, and I wanted her to see herself like I saw her.

I never convinced her.

I recently attended an event called Unleashing the Power Within. Part of that event includes addressing limiting beliefs. My mind finally understood that the belief of not being enough has been in my life, and has wielded great power. Yet, somehow I left that belief behind when I left the Greater Ft. Lauderdale/Broward County Convention Center.

Is the Christmas cactus a picture of the belief system that she passed down to me, with love? Is the cactus no longer thriving because the belief system is no longer thriving? To the extent that the cactus represents the limiting belief Grandma embodied and lived, I am ready to let it go. Even if the cactus revives, the belief system is gone. Whatever happens to the cactus, my life has changed and will never be the same.

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