Judy and Barbra

August 15, 2015

A friend of mine shared this video on Facebook and it took me aback.  The banter at the beginning is awkward and (hopefully) forgettable.  But these two geniuses effortlessly singing together is mesmerizing.

https://www.facebook.com/JspaceNews/videos/774835472614191/

I have long found myself humbled and awestruck whenever witness to the exceptional.  Be they friends, strangers, celebrities, or legends or any combination thereof, there are human beings who seem other-worldly.  I don't take for granted that they exist.  Proof that the human condition can elevate to highest highs and great achievements helps deescalate my growing fear that the common denominator is the toothless wonder in Wal-mart wearing lycra, screaming at her beleaguered offspring, buying Hot Pockets.

The First Day

August 13, 2015

Grace's first day of Kindergarten. Drew had his paci, I still loved my job, Grace still wore pink.

Grace's first day of high school, Drew's first day of 4th grade. He ditched the paci long ago, she ditched the color pink, I left the job I once loved. They remain the two reasons why I breathe. Life is changing for us all, but these two astound me with their resilience, their happiness, their love. 

The lump in my throat that has never really left since I took her to Kindergarten roared up today when she walked into Parkview. I regret that I'm not up in my classroom to journey through this with her, but it wasn't to be. I don't regret every weekend and week night I've been home or at her practices or games because I'm not up in that blessed classroom.

It's been a gut-check morning, and that's the nature of the beast. But I look at those faces and I thank God. Every day.

PS--

First day wrap up: Drew 1, 4th grade 0. Happy boy. And Gracie emerged from the 'view equally stoked. Whew...here we go...

Hold on!

Even though I don't return to school tomorrow, the last day of summer always makes me sad to the core. Agenda-free days in the sun are at a premium and my favorite days on the planet. I can hardly drag Grace to the pool these days, but climbing all over his mother and playing catch get Drew here every time. He starts 4th grade tomorrow and his sister enters high school.

As we were swimming just now, I suggested a floating contest. Drew is quite masterful with the floating, so I knew he would love to out-do me. But as we floated, our hands met, and he grabbed my hand and I grabbed his. We were face up, mostly submerged, peering into the endless blue of this rare clear August sky, holding hands wordlessly, just floating. 

For a bit, the weight of the world sank to zero.

Hold on, I keep telling myself. Hold on tight. 

ps--

And then we bowled. Because nothing follows a tender floating moment like a trip to the SWMO bowling alley. 😂

Gasping for Air

August 11, 2015

I've decided that a host of trials in this life cut a path at a slow burn punctuated by gasps for air.

I'm in the middle of something that needs no specific voice here. Writing in nuanced abstraction isn't really my bag, but I need to write today and it will have to do. 

Each day I'm learning more and more about the slides, climbs, breaks, and plateaus of life-cracking change. I have long been averse to change. I would cry at each school year's beginning and each end; each move into and out of the dorm; each departing friend; each returning student. I find myself now in the midst of change for which I am largely responsible. There is pain and relief, worry and hope. There is no moment in this slide, climb, break or plateau that isn't amped up. I'm on high alert 24/7 and I'm tired.

If you've journeyed through crisis, you will surely agree there are moments that seem normal and others that are surreal and still others that are joyful and then excruciating. Regardless, there is no end to the ringing in head and heart caused by your own screaming...but your mouth is closed and you aren't making any noise.

So I find myself motioning through the minutiae of each day at the aforementioned slow burn, until suddenly something will suck the breath out of me. It may be a moment of relief, it may be a storm of worry. In those moments--good or bad--I am jerked out of this haze I'm living in and I claw for air. All the while, though, I am doing everything I can to keep the struggle secret. I have people who need my strength even more than I do. They shall have it.

There is much to be said for oxygen. The love of my miraculous children, a solid verse from the Good Book, a friendship dearly held: these are the oxygen tanks on this road. There is a corner to be rounded not far away. I couldn't go this distance without them. 

I know that around the bend, over the hill, there is a fat moon waiting for me...and deep breaths in vast supply. I'm counting on it.

The Bishop's Wife

I've just watched the 1947 classic, "The Bishop's Wife." In it, David Niven plays a bishop seemingly devoid of all joy or any capacity therefore who is married to a breathtaking beauty (Loretta Young) who clearly remembers joy but the memory is fading by the second as the movie's plot unfolds. The Bishop somehow believes the Glory of God is destined to be unfurled in a huge cathedral for which he is fundraising and cow-towing to a few self-absorbed congregants who have the moolah to supply the big ol' cathedral in all its (and allegedly God's) glory. 

Bishop Frowny consistently disappoints his gorgeous wife, Julia, with his commitment to work and his neglect of her. We watch as she creates a fortress in a polite smile, vacant eyes, and a self-imposed numbness that is assuredly never quite numb enough. She is fading fast.

Along comes the equally gorgeous Cary Grant as Dudley, the angel. There is an obvious need in the Bishop's household and he has come to meet it by charming Julia and everyone else he meets. Dudley is the guy: if it's important to you, it's important to him; he ice skates, he delights children, he has an eye for ladies' hats, he is perky but not so much that you want to slap him. He sees need and he meets it.

We all need a Dudley.

Dudley's presence makes plain what is missing in the lives of Julia and the Bishop. Dudley reflects on this monstrosity of a cathedral and remarks "that big roof could make so many little roofs." Indeed, it could. Are you listening, Bishop? Dudley sees what makes Julia happy and, in making her happy in a "this isn't an affair because no one is touching or screwing and it's 1947 and there is a bigger lesson to be learned here" way, he wakes up her soul. Suddenly the vacant eyes and polite smiles are a distant memory and they are no longer enough for her. 

They shouldn't be enough for anyone. There's the lesson.

The Bishop's soul is as desolate as his wife's in the wake of his cathedral mania and wife neglect. His aim is for the wrong mark, but he doesn't realize it. 

Watch the movie, folks, and you will find Dudley demonstrating that, when a need is met, we are better equipped to meet the needs of others. And the big cathedral is kicked to the curb in favor of true help for many.

The big moment, though, is when Dudley takes leave of these mortals (before wiping out all memory of his visit) and he asks the Bishop, who sees Dudley as an angelic thief attempting to steal his wife, "Will you fight for her?" He goes on to say that it is rare "When an immortal envies the mortal in his care."

All's well that ends well: the Bishop finally realizes how precious is his Julia whom he values more than his own life. Dudley hesitates momentarily then hits the celestial road.

I doubt you tuned in for a movie synopsis, but it is what it is. Things are happening in my life that find some reflection in this gem of a film. We are all called at pivotal times to decide what is worth fighting for; what is worth building; what should be cherished. To see the weary resignation in Julia's eyes as she confronts a life devoid of affection for or priority of her is a familiar sight.  But the movie provides solution that sometimes real life cannot:  the angel disappears but leaves clear lessons behind. In real life, the lessons are often a tad more brutally learned.  Cinematically, the Bishop and his wife return one to another and to love and appreciation elusive to many of us here on earth.

That kind of love may be difficult to find or keep, but the need is fundamental, and it is everywhere.

The Blame Game

August 5, 2015

My thoughts lately rest on blame and forgiveness.  There is plenty of each to go around, I’ve found, in portions unequal.  

We blame, I think, because we feel the need for justice and we tend to believe that there is always more fault in everyone who isn’t us.  It’s a marvel, those who see themselves as flawless in this great mess of humanity.  How prideful is it to believe you are without fault?  Or to believe that the faults of another are always worse than your own?  

We forgive, I think, because we believe in the power of grace and mercy.  We are called by our God to do so.  It is no small feat, but it is our command.

To these two opposed actions are the nuggets here printed.  The words of others can sometimes provide a kick in the ass even our closest advisors may not.  In the midst of struggle, it is easy for our nearest and dearest to seek revenge or punish on our behalf.  Their vision is often clouded by the pain they see in us.  We are best served by helping them see clearly.

But I don't blame you anymore, that's too much pain to store...it left me half dead...inside my head. And boy looking back I see I'm not the girl I used to be. When I lost my mind, it saved my life.

MoZella

You can get past a mistake, but it's much harder to get past being a cruel person.

Jennifer Brown, Thousand Words

A victim is someone who blames it all on someone else. Why give all the power to someone else and leave yourself powerless?

Christina Moss

Some people's blameless lives are to blame for a good deal.

Dorothy L. Sayers, Gaudy Night 

If you must speak ill of another, do not speak it, write it in the sand near the water's edge.
Napoleon Hill

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

Mahatma Gandhi, All Men are Brothers: Autobiographical Reflections

To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.

C.S. Lewis

I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded; not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.

Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner

August 3 Nugget

"Grace is the face love wears when it meets imperfection."

--Bill Thrall, in "The Cure"